


drift

by ineedashiro (madseli)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Decisions, Black Paladin Shiro (Voltron), Canon Compliant, Character Death, Character Death Fix, Divorce, Drug Withdrawal, Eventual Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Heavy Angst, Hurt Keith (Voltron), M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Allura/Lance (Voltron), Minor Kolivan/Krolia (Voltron), Not Actually Unrequited Love, Older Characters, Past Curtis/Shiro (Voltron), Past Keith/Original Character(s), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post-Canon, Presumed Dead, Recreational Drug Use, Rescue Missions, Road Trip Through Space, Sacrifice, Soul Bond, Space Pirates, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-10-06 15:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 74,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17347478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madseli/pseuds/ineedashiro
Summary: Four years after the war, everything has changed. Keith is a well-known and respected humanitarian. Shiro is a restless retiree in a failing marriage. When his husband wakes him up late one night to the news of Keith's sudden, tragic death, Shiro and the paladins come together for one last mission: to bring Keith home.Keith has other plans.





	1. good grief

**Chapter 1**

_What's gonna be left of the world if you're not in it?_  
_Every minute and every hour I miss you more._

"Good Grief" - Bastille

* * *

It was sunset in the desert where Keith grew up.

This was the first of many details Shiro would recognize in the scene before him, and it made sense. When Shiro considered how many of his favorite moments were of Keith, in this desert, in this light, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that even in his dreams he would find himself here.

He wasn’t alone.

There was a man ahead of him with his back turned to Shiro. The white tank he wore was stained and his bare, muscular arms were covered in grease smudges and desert dust. His long, dark hair was tied back, but Shiro knew that there were stray locks sticking to the sweat dotting his forehead.

He knew because it was Keith, and because Shiro had been there with him in this time and place, and because it was the last time he and Keith had spoken. No amount of time would erase the memory of Keith in that final moment; sweat-soaked and grimy, weary in more ways than one, scarred and broken and beautiful. He was ten years older than he had been when Shiro first met him, taller, lithe yet defined muscle earned through years of training to survive a war. There were few traces of the delicate boy he’d once been to be found behind his sharp edges and bruised knuckles.

But then, Shiro supposed, his edges had always been sharp, and his knuckles always bruised. The difference was that where Shiro had once been able to touch, he now was cut, and no amount of wanting and pleading would get him any closer to mending Keith’s self-inflicted wounds.

Shiro wished he didn’t deserve it.

The worst part of it all was that even in his own dream he couldn’t get Keith to turn around.

“Keith.” Shiro tried to chase after him, but he never could run in his dreams. He moved in slow motion while everything sped by him. The desert carried Keith farther and farther away, and the sun slipped beneath the horizon, leaving him in darkness as Keith disappeared. “Keith, wait! Keith!”

He awoke in bed with his husband curled up beside him.

Somehow he managed to drag himself out of bed to the bathroom. Splashing water in his face, Shiro counted to himself until he could control his breathing again. Usually he stopped somewhere in the early- to mid-thirties. Nightmares were a common occurrence and he’d perfected his routine years ago, to the point that they rarely woke his partner anymore.

Curtis thought Shiro didn’t get them anymore. It was one of many lies Shiro convinced himself was worth it.

At thirty-six he could breathe again and patted his face dry with a hand towel, finally allowing himself to revisit the dream. Almost none of his nightmares were imagined; he suffered from an extraordinary eye for detail and a memory that clung to the moments that caused the most pain. His mind simply distorted the memories to prod at his greatest weaknesses and insecurities.

If he was the type of man who believed dreams had any sort of meaning, he would’ve gotten stuck on the idea that sunsets are symbolic of endings and how if so many memories of Keith are in the light of a dying sun then he should’ve seen the break in them coming.

Rather than go back to bed, Shiro slid into his slippers and shuffled into the kitchen to get the coffeemaker going. It was early, but not absurdly so, and Curtis would be up soon anyway. Earlier in their marriage, Shiro might have taken the opportunity to make his husband breakfast in bed.

He hadn’t had the energy for that in a long time. He poured himself a bowl of cereal and read the news on his datapad instead.

It was four years since the war ended; four years since they lost Allura; just under three years since he retired and married; a year and a half since he last saw Keith.

Well. In person, at least. He saw Keith in the news just about every damn day. Aside from being the tabloids’ hottest commodity, he was the face of the Blades’ intergalactic humanitarian efforts. Shiro often wondered how hard Kolivan had to twist Keith’s arm to get him to record an advertisement acting as the poster boy for charity and altruism.

He did the job well, though. It could’ve been that he was so well known and, arguably, worshipped as a hero, that recognition alone made him an effective marketing ploy. But his violet eyes pierced through the screen and gripped your soul, and his voice always had that simultaneous soft and rough quality that sounded so genuine and kind it was impossible not to listen.

“The smallest donation can feed a starving child for a phoeb.” By now, the option to skip to the video Shiro had intended to watch was available. He let it keep playing. “If you can’t donate, but still want to help, our volunteers are always running foodbanks, rebuilding neighborhoods and schools, and providing resources to those in need, and we are always looking to add members to the team. Contact the number on your screen today to start making a difference. Together, we can make a change as the defenders of the universe.”

The last line was always Shiro’s favorite. He could see Keith’s face twitch as he said it. Even so, he would be lying to suggest he’d never made a donation after watching it.

Curtis entered the kitchen in the middle of a news report on the Blades’ recent mission restoring clean water to a planet in the same system as Altea. Shiro paused it on a screen of Keith and Ezor with local children, who had been taught to avoid the waterways or else become horribly ill, playing in clean water for the first time.

“Good morning,” Curtis said after retrieving a mug of coffee. He was already dressed in his Garrison uniform, and kissed Shiro’s temple before sitting down across from him.

“Good morning.” Shiro’s eyes were drawn to the smile splayed across Keith’s face. He’d removed the outer layer of his Senior Blade armor and rolled his sleeves up, in water up to his waist, holding a little alien girl on his hip. “What’s today look like?”

“Same as always,” Curtis said, not noticing Shiro’s divided attention. “You?”

“Yep,” Shiro said. Curtis hummed.

They continued to browse through the news on their datapads in silence.

Curtis gave Shiro a kiss goodbye before he left for work. Shiro cleaned their dishes and went for a jog around the neighborhood, waving hello to the neighbors he saw every morning in the same place. When he was done he showered and went to the grocery store, returned and sorted the groceries himself. It was a normal day.

It was a boring day.

At the time, retirement had come as a relief. A mixture of his PTSD and his ever present grief over the loss of good friends and the never ending schedule of meetings soured work for him. Diplomacy was a skill that came through hard work and patience, and Shiro was proud to become a decent enough diplomat, but ultimately he was a pilot who - with the war ended - was never able to fly. It began as a bitter taste he hardly recognized, but by the time he turned in his resignation his disdain for his own work seeped into every aspect of his life until he could not reconcile sticking with it any longer.

Curtis was his biggest supporter. Keith never gave his opinion, and Lance insisted to Shiro that he didn’t want to know it.

Retirement was nice at first. But what Shiro should have known was that it wasn’t working he hated but the work he was doing. Having nothing to spend his time on left him in a constant state of restlessness. He worked out to break up the time, but between his morning jogs and daily sessions at the neighborhood gym, that was still only about three and a half hours of his day covered.

Sometimes he met up with friends, but they all had things going on in their own lives. He had frequent lunches with Lance, when he wasn’t working on his family’s farm or off-planet. Occasionally he would get together with Matt for drinks. Pidge recommended that he pick up a hobby of some sort to keep him occupied during the day, so he tried starting an herb garden.

Of course, he hadn’t considered that gardening in a desert would present difficulties that he, as someone who generally cared very little for gardening, was not prepared or motivated to work around.

Most often he would find himself wandering onto the old Garrison base. Most of the senior officers knew him from his days as Captain of the Atlas and an admiral, and most of the cadets knew him as one of the universe’s greatest heroes. It was nice just to be in that environment, with people who loved what he loved, even if he was likely only getting in their way.

If he was, they were kind enough not to mention it.

He stood at an overlook of the Atlas’s hangar when Matt caught sight of him. His friend took up a light jog to get to him, greeting him with a kind smile and a one-armed hug. “Hey man,” he said, “I don’t suppose you came all the way out here to help us test some of the new jets, now, did you?”

“Just visiting, Matt,” Shiro said, returning the smile. “I’m retired, remember?”

“Hey, you’re still one of the best pilots this place has ever seen. They’d let you test out the new models no matter how many years it’s been. Plus I wouldn’t mind watching you put some of the new cadets in their place.” Matt nudged him with his elbow. “They all wanna be the next hotshot pilot. Every single one. It gets old.”

“Any of ‘em beat Keith’s old sim scores yet?” Shiro asked.

Matt grinned, but there was care to it like he knew the topic of Keith was sore even when Shiro was the one to bring him up. “None.”

Despite himself, Shiro felt a surge of pride. “Then I guess they’ve still got some work to do.”

“I guess so,” Matt said with a laugh. “Listen, man, I gotta get back to work. But message me and we’ll get our next happy hour set up, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure,” Shiro said, waving him off. “Go on. I’ve held you up long enough.”

“See you around, Shiro.”

Shiro watched the cadets work a few more minutes before heading up to the roof. Somehow, he’d managed to waste most of the day away and as he reached the top the sun was beginning to set. He walked to the edge and leaned against the rail, staring over the vast expanse of land. Cadets were turning in for the day, landing their ships and driving back towards the facility. Beyond the reach of the Garrison’s property, Shiro could see the path he and Keith used to take on their hoverbikes. Beyond the ridge he knew stood Keith’s father’s old house, where Keith grew up, and where Keith spent a year on his own as a teenager who had lost too much.

The dream popped back into mind. It was a curse, really. A year and a half later, their goodbye still left him aching. His communicator was in his hand before he knew what to do with it.

He could call Keith. He could do it. It wasn’t hard to dial a few numbers, and Keith was the first contact he added to his speed dial when he got the damn thing. He could do it.

He could do it.

He found Keith’s contact and pressed the call button.

It went immediately to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Keith. I’m currently on mission in deep space and can’t accept non-emergency transmissions from planets outside of my current star system. If this is important, please contact my office at the Blade Headquarters and they’ll get your message to me. Otherwise, leave a message here and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Shiro hung up after the beep and went home.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that in bed that night he dreamt again of Keith.

But this was different. The images were blurred around the edges, and it sounded like he was listening through static - like he was seeing a long distance message rather than something in his own head. Keith was in his Senior Blade uniform, mask covering his face, but his slight figure made him easily recognizable - and who else would it be?

Shiro wasn’t sure what he was watching until it was too late.

Keith let out a shout of pain as a body lunged toward him. Shiro never saw the assailant, never saw the result, only saw flashes of Keith’s panicked face as the mask was knocked off of him.

The sounds were worse. It was the echo of Keith’s voice pleading with his attacker. “ _Please. No. Please!_ ” And then, an unearthly whisper, a thousand _sh_ ’s as the image changed. Keith no longer in the middle of an attack, but in a cave, brushing his hand over a carving of a lion and a woman. The _sh_ ’s intensified as the carvings began to glow, the lion a bright blue and the woman a blinding white. Distantly, he heard Keith’s voice saying, “Shiro?”

And then Keith was in the pilot’s chair of an aircraft, and through the view screen he could only see stars and explosions. “I’m under heavy fire, does anyone copy?” he said, doing his best to avoid whatever battle he’d found himself in the middle of. “This is Commander Keith Kogane requesting immediate backup. I repeat, requesting immediate backup -”

There was the deafening sound of his craft taking a hit it wouldn’t be able to come back from. Without a second thought Keith ejected himself into space, and within moments his ship was nothing but fire and shards of metal and glass.

And it changed again.

Keith stood on a planet alone. The planet was a tundra, one that looked vaguely familiar, but before he could think anymore on it Keith turned to look directly at him. His face was bruised and cut, with blood smeared across his forehead and lips, and he held himself in a way that suggested he had other injuries as well.

When he spoke, his lips didn’t move, but the voice was Keith’s. “Shiro?” he said, the name echoing half a dozen times as though from different spaces in the expanse of nothingness, “Shiro?”

And then, startlingly clear, as though Keith was standing next to him, “Shiro, can you hear me?”

A hand on Shiro’s shoulder shook him awake.

“Takashi,” Curtis said, his voice wrecked. “Takashi, wake up.”

Shiro’s eyes opened and he tried to blink away the image of Keith stranded away. It was unusual for him to have a nightmare that wasn’t one of his own memories haunting him - none of what he’d seen qualified as anything he had experienced before.

Yet, it felt just as real. It was unsettling in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Takashi,” Curtis said again, his hand still on Shiro’s shoulder. “You need to come look at this.”

Normally, Shiro might have been annoyed. Curtis may have been a night owl, but Shiro liked being able to sleep. But something in the look in his husband’s eyes sent an ice cold chill through Shiro’s spine, and he climbed out of bed after only the slightest hesitation.

When they made it to the living room, and Shiro saw the face flashing across their television screen, he understood why.

A newscaster was speaking, but Shiro couldn’t pay attention past reading the words scrolling along the bottom of the screen.

“HERO PALADIN OF THE BLACK LION OF VOLTRON PRESUMED DEAD.”

Unconscious of his own actions, Shiro stepped around the couch and sat in front of the TV. Slowly, the newscaster’s words reached his ears, though he couldn’t even begin to make sense of them.

“...reported missing late yesterday, though we are told by a representative of the Blade of Marmora that they chose not to publicize the report in fear that a galaxy-wide search would only further endanger Kogane’s life. At approximately 1900 hours Earth Eastern Standard time, the Marmora Headquarters received an SOS transmission from Kogane’s ship that is automatically released when the cockpit has sustained severe damage. Our representative with the Blades has confirmed that Kogane was located in a territory of deep space currently occupied by a rogue Zarkon sympathist group, and that his survival in the event of attack is unlikely.”

A numb feeling settled in Shiro’s chest as the newscaster switched to an expert on the Zarkon sympathist group. Images of Keith stayed on the screen the entire time, changing every thirty seconds or so as if running through a slideshow. First it was a more recent, professional shot of him in his Senior Blade uniform, a long braid falling over one shoulder. Then it was an older one of him in his red and white paladin armor that appeared to have been taken without him noticing, as he was mid conversation with a cadet whose face couldn’t be seen. Then it was one of him on mission with Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid, handing out rations to families in need.

The next photo was a class photo from the Garrison, zoomed in to focus on Keith. He was so young it physically hurt Shiro to look at him - so much smaller than his classmates, so much angrier. Shiro saw himself standing two rows behind Keith, though the cropping of the photo meant half of his face was cut off.

He couldn’t look anymore.

“I’m so sorry, Takashi,” Curtis said, settling his hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

As if on cue, Shiro’s communicator beeped, and it was enough of an explanation for why he suddenly flinched away from Curtis’s touch that he didn’t bother go into it anymore. He answered it on the second ring, the life drained from his voice. “This is Shiro.”

“Shiro, it’s Pidge. Are you watching the news?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said, pressing the palm of his hand to his eye. “Yeah. I’m watching.”

“Shiro.” Something in the tone of Pidge’s voice was off - it took Shiro a moment to register it as _not sad enough_ and then before he could ask any questions, Pidge said, “Keith isn’t dead.”

There was an awful beat of silence, filled only with the expert’s continued explanation of how brutal this particular band of sympathizers was and how unlikely it was that Keith made it out of an altercation with them alive. “... _These terrorists are known for impersonating members of the Blade of Marmora using weapons taken from Blades who have died. Though little is currently known about their organization, they have given themselves the name ‘The Knights of Daibazaal.’ The Galran representatives to the Galactic Coalition have distanced their home planet from this terrorist group, claiming they are revisionists with a fundamental misunderstanding of who the Galra of today are._ ”

“I can’t explain it,” Pidge continued when it was clear Shiro couldn’t manage a single word. “I… I had a dream and I saw him alive. I saw the ship exploding and I saw him somehow get out of it. He isn’t dead, Shiro.”

Shiro sat up. “Did you see cave drawings in your dream?”

“I-” Pidge sounded baffled, and Shiro could almost see her expression. “Yeah, I did.”

“I had the same dream,” Shiro said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Against his will, relief flowed through him. He had no reason to be relieved. At best, Keith was alive and alone and injured and stranded.

At worst…

“I’m contacting Lance and Hunk. Switch to holo-call, Shiro.”

Shiro held the communicator away from his ear, and a hologram of Pidge’s face appeared above it. Then, only seconds apart, so did Lance’s and Hunk’s.

“Guys,” Hunk said. The man, who had always been the most in touch with his emotions, was near tears. “Oh, guys. Something weird just happened. I was in the middle of making myself a midnight snack and all of a sudden I got these crazy visions of Keith, and then Romelle just ran in showing me - oh God, _Keith._ ”

“You saw those, too?” Lance said, voice edged with a panic he struggled to restrain.

“We all did,” Pidge said, “And I think we all know what that means.”

“He’s alive.” As Hunk said it, the same relief flashed over all their expressions. But it was quickly suppressed as the next realization hit.

“But he’s in trouble,” Shiro said. Beside him, he felt Curtis staring him down. This was a part of his life his husband would never understand - the connection with the paladins, with Keith, was a mystical bond. At this moment, Shiro wasn’t sure he understood it completely. He’d long ago resigned himself to never feeling that connection again, when Allura saved his life and in doing so severed his bond with the Black Lion forever. “And he needs our help.”

“Do you think the Lions sent us these visions? Or - or maybe Allura?” It was Lance, voice strained. “I mean, you all saw the cave drawings, right? There was one of a woman.”

“We can try to figure it out later, but now we need to focus on Keith,” Shiro said, and saw Lance deflate. He felt for him. Loss had aged them, changed them all in the years since the war’s end, some in more ways than others. “We should go see Krolia and the Blades. I’m guessing they know a lot more than they’re telling the public.”

“Everyone meet me in front of the Garrison in the morning. Let’s say 0600 hours,” Pidge said. The way she was moving her hands, Shiro suspected she was already making preparations. “I’ll get a ship ready for us. I’ll see if I can get one with our latest wormhole upgrade, but without it’s a twelve hour journey so be prepared, just in case.”

“Copy that,” Shiro said, wiping a hand over his face as Curtis stood and walked away from him.

“Aww, yeah! Team road trip!” Hunk said, “I’m bringing brownies. No, no, wait, cookies. Yeah, definitely cookies.”

“Can’t wait, Hunk,” Lance said, and Hunk clicked off.

“Can’t wait to explain to my parents that I’m running off into space without them again.” Pidge’s voice was flat, but she was smirking as she too clicked out of the call.

Shiro’s thumb hovered over the ‘end call’ option, but before he could say a thing, Lance said, “Hey, Shiro?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Shiro huffed out a humorless laugh. The man he once considered his closest friend who he hadn’t spoken to in a year and a half and who was thought to be dead might actually be alive, and in serious danger. It left him with a bit of emotional whiplash, if nothing else. “I’m fine, Lance.”

Lance wasn’t buying it. “I know things didn’t end well with you and Keith, but I also know you both still mean a lot to each other, so don’t pull that shit.”

“I’ll _be_ fine,” Shiro said, annunciating with care.

Fixing Shiro in a stare, Lance let it go. “Okay. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Wait-” He said it before he could stop himself, and was left staring back at Lance’s look of surprise. “Uh… Lance, did Keith talk to you in your vision?”

Lance blinked. “I heard him calling for backup, but he never talked _to_ me.”

“Oh.” His shoulders slumped. “Okay. See you soon.”

“What did Keith say to you?”

“It’s nothing. I probably just imagined it. See you, Lance.”

Lance frowned, but again he let it go. “See you.”

Shiro hung up, set the device down, and put his head in his hands. Keith was alive, and he was in danger. _Keith was alive._ Somewhere in the universe he was breathing. The need to protect and care for swept over him, overwhelming his exhaustion and pulling him to his feet.

For the briefest moment, a thought sneaked through - that there was a word for this, for what he and the paladins were feeling and what they were doing. Denial.

He shoved it aside. He needed to pack.

Curtis was waiting on their bed. Neither of them spoke when Shiro entered and immediately moved to their closet, pulled a duffle bag from the top shelf, and began shoving essentials inside. Extra underwear, a few pairs of jeans, a pair of sweats, extra t-shirts. The thought that Keith might not have enough clothes crossed his mind, and he went back for his favorite hoodies and sweaters. It didn’t fit in the duffle. He grabbed a suitcase instead and began carelessly switching everything over.

“Takashi.” The name cut through the silence. It shattered around them. “Please think about this.”

“There isn’t time,” Shiro said, “Keith is alive and he needs us.”

“You saw the same report I did. You’re going off of a dream, Takashi.”

“A dream we _all saw_.” Shiro snapped around, betrayal in his glare. “That’s not a coincidence, Curt.”

“Have you considered that the dreams, the visions, whatever they were, don’t mean he’s alive?”

“What else could they possibly mean? I saw him eject from his ship. I saw him on a planet. He was alive. He _is_ alive.” Shiro moved into the bathroom and began gathering his toothbrush, his shampoo, his pills. “He talked to me. I know he did.”

“Takashi, you know what this is, right? This is denial. This is _textbook_ denial.”

“I don’t need this right now, Curt.” It was the same tone he’d used with Adam, once upon a time, when their relationship was on its way out the door. The memory left a bitter taste in his mouth. “I’m going out there and I’m going to bring him home. You either support me or you don’t.”

Curtis stood. “I do _not_ support you going out into terrorist-occupied deep space after a man you haven’t spoken to in over a year. I do _not_ support you risking your life like this.”

The edges of Shiro’s vision tinted red. He stepped back into the bedroom, tossing his things into the bag. “Keith would have done it for me. Keith _did_ do it for me.”

“You don’t owe him anything, Takashi, and you know he would agree with me.”

“I owe him _everything_.” Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose. “But this isn’t about debts. This is about saving my friend’s life.”

“What if you’re wrong? What if this isn’t a rescue mission and the best you can hope for is a recovery?”

“He’s alive, Curtis, I know it. I can feel it. I can feel that he’s still out there somewhere. Why can’t you just have a _little_ bit of faith in me?”

“I won’t sit back and watch this, Takashi,” Curtis said, crossing his arms with downcast eyes. “This is your safety, your life we’re discussing here. If you do this-”

“Don’t.” Shiro held up a hand. “I’ve heard the end of that sentence before. Just don’t.”

Curtis pressed his lips together. “Then I guess there’s nothing left to say.”

Shiro breathed in slowly and exhaled through gritted teeth, closing his eyes as he crouched down over the bag. “I guess not. I’m sorry.”

The silence that fell between them was horrible. He should have seen this coming. Shiro had thought that this might be the relationship that sticks - he wouldn’t have married Curtis if he thought otherwise.

Yet, every time something in his life seemed to be stable, even good, it inevitably always crumbled apart. Even his marriage couldn’t avoid falling into the trajectory of his life.

But when it came to Keith’s life, there was no other option.

His bag still needed packing.

Shiro, suddenly unable to think straight, stared at the haphazard pile of clothes hanging over the sides of his suitcase, plucking helplessly at a sleeve.

“Here,” Curtis said, and crouched down across from him. He took one of Shiro’s shirts, refolded it, and rolled it up. “You’ll save space this way.”

Shiro watched him a moment longer before following suit. With everything packed, he zipped the bag and wiped his human hand over his face, gathering the courage to look Curtis in the eye. “I am sorry, Curt.”

Curtis sighed. “I’m sorry, too.”

He was too kind to kick Shiro out of their bed, so Shiro banished himself to the couch for the few hours he still had to sleep. In the morning, Shiro traded his ring for an apple from the fruit bowl and set his bag in the car. Curtis woke in time to meet him at the door before he could sneak out without a word.

Shiro almost wished he could have managed it. Loss may have been an old friend, but goodbyes were a stranger.

“We can figure stuff out when I get back.” He fidgeted with his keys in an anxious gesture. Near three years of marriage, and he had no words. “I… wish I knew what else to say.”

He didn’t know what to say to Adam until he was gone. He didn’t know what to say to Keith until Keith had stopped listening.

Curtis simply nodded. From the shadows under his eyes, it was clear he’d slept as well as Shiro did. “Be safe out there, Takashi.”

“I will.” With nothing left to say, Shiro turned, got into his car, and drove away. In his mirror, he could see Curtis step out to the curb to watch him go. Whatever feelings were building up within him, he buried deep. He would have to feel them later. Right now, there wasn’t time.

He had to help Keith. That was the most important thing.

The others were already gathered in front of the Garrison’s main building when he arrived. Shiro still hadn’t grown used to Lance’s Altean marks. Pidge, though taller than she had been during the war, was still the shortest of the bunch by far, and she’d changed her hair to an asymmetrical undercut that Shiro thought suited her. And Hunk looked nearly the same. Seeing the three of them together again left a warm feeling in Shiro’s heart.

It had been a long time.

“Shiro!” Hunk called, waving both arms over his head. “Buddy!”

He moved to join them, carrying his bag on his shoulder. “Hey, guys.”

“I’ve got a ship all ready for us in the main hangar.” Pidge stooped to pick up her bag, and Lance and Hunk were quick to follow. “We need to get going. I was able to get a ship with upgraded wormhole tech, but it’ll still take six hours to get to Daibazaal. I sent Krolia a message with our ETA, but I haven’t heard anything yet.”

“I’m sure she’s dealing with a lot right now,” Lance said. He was staring pointedly at Shiro’s bare ring finger.

Shiro readjusted the strap on his shoulder so he could stuff his hand in his pocket. “Lead the way, Pidge.”

As they made their way through the facility, it was impossible to ignore the cadets’ stares. Shiro didn’t blame them, really - it wasn’t often anymore that so many of the former paladins were all together at once, and with last night’s news they were fresh on everyone’s minds.

The staring, Shiro could handle. But it wasn’t just staring.

It took a moment to realize that many of the cadets around them were crying. They hugged and comforted each other. It made sense, in a way. Many of these people may not have known Keith personally, but they looked up to him. He was a public figure, a hero, _their_ hero. He was an inspiration, and they had just been told that he was gone.

The worst was when they turned the corner and nearly tripped over his memorial.

How they had managed to gather so much in just a few hours was beyond Shiro’s comprehension. The pile stretched down the hall for several meters. There were at least two dozen separate bouquets of flowers, most red and white. Stuffed toy versions of the Red and Black lions of varying sizes were scattered among them, as were charms and hand-drawn sketches. Someone left a poster from the TV show that had been made in their honor. Another left a box set of the entire series. There were handwritten notes of thanks, and printed certificates of donation to the Blades’ humanitarian relief foundation. In the center of it all, someone had set up a small table with candles to light and a framed picture of Keith in his orange and white cadet flight suit, his helmet tucked under his arm. It was probably the last professional photo the Garrison had of him in their computer system, from before his expulsion. He couldn’t have been older than seventeen.

Other pictures were strewn around it; smaller candids of Keith in his paladin armor, or in his Blade uniform. There were printed selfies of him posing with younger cadets and budding pilots. An entire corner was dedicated to photographs of him with the MFE pilots or the paladins. Some were torn out of magazines. Some were holographic and glowed blue around the edges.

“Wow,” Hunk said as they all stared in something like awe, something like horror. “He… he really touched a lot of lives, didn’t he?”

Shiro took a small step closer to the table at the center. All of it was overwhelming, but he found his breaking point in the form of a small photograph of Keith with Shiro at the Kerberos launch. Shiro’s arm was draped over Keith’s thin shoulders, Keith’s crossed over his chest as usual. Keith was so much shorter than him, and he wore Shiro’s uniform hat tilted to the side. Shiro was mid-laugh, and Keith was looking up at him, his expression impossibly soft.

He remembered that picture. Colleen took it for them. It was the last picture of the two of them before everything went to hell. Keith looked so damn young.

Shiro didn’t realize he was crying until the tears were already spilling over his cheeks.

“Aw, man.” Hunk set a gentle hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna bring him back safe and sound.”

“C’mon, guys,” Pidge said. Her voice was low, laced with emotion. “We need to go.”

Shiro wiped furiously at his face, drawing in a shaking breath. “Yeah. The sooner the better.”

They made it to the hangar without interruption and piled into the ship. As Shiro climbed the steps, he looked around him one last time. Across the room, he met eyes with James Griffin, standing with the other MFE pilots.

Even with the distance between them, Shiro could sense the immense grief rolling off them. Slowly, James lifted his hand to his forehead in a salute. The other MFE were quick to do the same.

And as Shiro looked around, he noticed that all of the cadets - and staff even - were saluting him.

It was all he could do to force back another flood of tears. Though he hadn’t been the admiral in years, and wasn’t even in a uniform, he raised his own hand to return the gesture before disappearing into the ship.

Lance flew them out of the hangar. Hunk passed around the cookies he’d promised. Shiro watched out the window as the world fell away from them and they breached the atmosphere.

Being among the stars still took his breath away after all this time.

He fell asleep with his face against the glass.

“Hey, Shiro,” Pidge said, gently shaking him awake hours later, “We’re here. We made it to Daibazaal.”

Krolia and Kolivan awaited them at the hangar when they arrived. Shiro could see them as they landed, standing to the side, wearier than he thought he’d ever seen them. They moved forward only when the ship’s hatch opened and the former paladins began stepping out.

“Hello, everyone,” Krolia said, “It’s good to see you all again. I only wish it was under better circumstances.”

“You got my message?” Pidge asked.

“I did.” Krolia’s expression was grave. “And I am eager to hear what you have to say.”

“Maybe we should step inside,” Shiro said.

A car was waiting for them in front of the airport to take them to the Blade Headquarters. The walk was silent, and only once they had all settled in the car did Kolivan finally break the quiet.

“Now, please explain what exactly it was you all saw.” His voice was stern as always.

“It was really just flashes of things,” Pidge said, “He was in some sort of room. He looked like he was looking at a computer, and then he was attacked. I also saw him in a cave, and in his ship, and on a planet.”

“We all saw the same images,” Lance said, “At right around the same time. That’s not a coincidence.”

“We also heard him send out a distress signal from his ship during an attack,” Shiro said, “Did you receive anything?”

“Nothing.” Krolia frowned. “It’s… possible the terrorists somehow blocked his transmissions from reaching us. All we received from him was the automatic SOS when his ship sustained heavy damage.”

“He was able to eject into space before the ship was destroyed,” Pidge said. “How he got from space to the ice planet, I’m not sure. But that’s all I saw.”

“Can you recall any other details from this planet?” Kolivan asked.

“It really was just a quick flash. Keith was hurt and standing alone in the middle of a tundra. That’s all I saw.” Pidge looked to the others. “Guys?”

“Ditto,” Hunk said.

“Yep,” Lance said.

Shiro looked on, caught in his thoughts. He remembered the disembodied voices - as if he could ever forget the way Keith said his name.

“There are a few planets in the general area we tracked his ship to,” Kolivan said. “Only one is a tundra - Coth Z1.”

The name jogged a memory in the back of Shiro’s mind, a memory that wasn’t his own. “Wasn’t that planet once a rebel base?”

“It was. Unfortunately, it has been abandoned since its worsening climate and local creatures made it uninhabitable,” Krolia said, “The original base should still be there, and there may be some supplies left, assuming-”

She cut off, prompting Shiro to look at her. Emotion was etched into every feature, though she tried to clamp it down. No tears fell, but when she managed to speak again her pain leaked into her words. “You understand, the SOS signal - we received that transmission two quintants ago.”

Kolivan took out a datapad. “Coth Z1 is in the middle of its winter cycle. The air temperature just this movement has been fairly consistent at 244 kelvins. That’s about -29 degrees Celsius. The windchill fluctuates, but the lowest temperature recorded in the past two quintants has been -59 degrees Celsius, and as we speak it is at -40.”

“Keith left in only his Blade uniform. It isn’t designed for this sort of weather.” Krolia closed her eyes, straining with the effort to maintain her emotions. “A Galran could survive in this weather for half a quintant, maybe, but Keith’s anatomy is primarily human. He would get frostbite in doboshes.”

“There is only one rebel base on Coth Z1.” Somehow, Kolivan kept his voice measured through it all. “For Keith to have survived this long, he would have needed to somehow land on the planet without his ship, and within a short enough distance to the base to avoid perishing from the conditions.”

“We don’t mean to discourage you,” Krolia said, “But this may not be a rescue mission.”

“He’s alive,” Shiro said, and surprised himself with his own confidence and certainty. “I would know if he wasn’t. I can feel that he’s still alive out there somewhere.”

“What was Keith doing in terrorist-occupied deep space?” Lance asked, cautious.

Krolia’s smile was heartbreaking. “We don’t know.”

“Wait, what do you mean you don’t _know_?” Hunk asked.

“He requested personal time off this week as well as the use of a Blade-issued ship. He didn’t divulge any details, just that there was something he needed to look into.” Krolia massaged her temple. “He didn’t mention where he was heading. I believe he knew that we would have refused his request if he had.”

“There may be some information on his plans in his office, but we haven’t been able to get past the security measures he set on his computer,” Kolivan said.

“I should be able to handle that, no problem,” Pidge said.

“Was anything going on with him before he requested the leave?” Shiro asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Was he alright? Do you know of anything that might have prompted this?”

Krolia and Kolivan looked at one another. “There is one possibility,” Krolia said, “He was curious about our family. With the war having calmed down, there was much he still wanted to know about who we are.”

“So you think he went looking for them?” Lance asked.

“No. My parents, his grandparents, were executed by Zarkon when I was a child. I was primarily raised by my grandparents until I left to join the Blades. We lost contact after that, for their protection as well as my own, but around a phoeb ago we found that my grandfather still lives. Keith arranged for him to come to Daibazaal.”

“And it didn’t go well?” Shiro asked.

“It went quite well, actually. But my grandfather had been keeping secrets.” Krolia took a breath. “As it turns out, our family is not full Galra. According to my grandfather, many generations down the family line was an Altean.”

The four of them gasped at once. “Keith is part Altean?” Lance repeated, sounding as shocked as Shiro felt.

“It was over 10,000 years ago, you understand. Even by Galra standards, that is a significant generational gap. Keith and I are not Altean by any standard. But according to my grandfather, the Altean in our family was a skilled alchemist. They passed down a sensitivity to quintessence which helped our family survive Zarkon’s reign. Eventually, the ability began to skip generations. My mother had it. Keith has it.”

“That’s how he could sense the Blue Lion,” Lance said, voicing the realization that was coming to all of them.

“Yes,” Krolia said. “And I fear it may have led him out there now.”

Kolivan’s ears perked. “We have arrived at Headquarters. We should continue this conversation inside.”

The walk through Headquarters was somehow worse than the Garrison. It made sense, in some way - Keith had been the leader of the Blades for years, and must have personally known many, if not most, of the people there. They passed no crying mourners, but the Galra grieved in their own quiet way, with stony faces and tight lips and eyes closed.

But it wasn’t just fellow Blades there to pay respects - they passed refugee families in the mourning clothes of their own cultures, parents carrying sniffling children, elders leaning on each other. As they turned the corner and were met with Keith’s memorial, a refugee child no older than four set a drawing of two stick figures, who Shiro assumed were herself and Keith, among the gifts. Stepping by them he saw only more drawings and letters in children’s writing.

“Being the leader of the Blades did not prevent Keith from interacting with the people,” Krolia explained, “They loved him. It has been a difficult day for us all.”

The little girl looked up and met Shiro’s gaze. Recognition gleamed in her alien eyes, entirely deep blue pupil, and she waved a tiny hand to say hello.

Shiro managed a small smile and waved back before they stepped into Keith’s office.

It reminded him a bit of the shack in the desert after his post-Kerberos crash landing. There was a board on one wall covered in photographs and case files and notes. His desk was littered with them. Pidge wasted no time getting around to his computer and set to work.

“Aw, look. He’s got pictures of us on his desk,” Hunk said, picking up a frame and showing it to Lance. Shiro stepped around them to look over his shoulder. It was a photo-screen that showed a picture of Keith between Hunk and Lance, his arms around their shoulders with a beach behind them. He wore sunglasses and his damp hair was curling and he was smiling - and not his typical smirk, but a genuine, toothy grin.

It was a recent picture, Shiro realized with a pang of jealousy. “When did you guys go to the beach?”

“He came to visit for my birthday,” Lance said, smiling to himself. “The three of us went to Havana for the weekend.”

Two months. Keith had been on Earth two months before, and he hadn’t said a word, and neither had the rest of them.

The photo changed. The new one was from the Atlas - a group photo of all of them in their paladin armor; Pidge in the front, Hunk behind her, Lance with an arm around Allura, and Keith to their side. Shiro was noticeably absent.

Hunk’s hand flew to clutch his chest. “Oh my God, we all looked so young. Keith still has a baby face!”

Shiro couldn’t look anymore. He turned back to Keith’s desk, ruffling through the notes for anything of use.

“Why does he have so much paper?” Pidge said, wrinkling her nose. “C’mon Keith, get with the times.”

“Writing things down by hand helped him think,” Shiro said. He shifted a packet of papers out of the way. Underneath had been a holo-projector, and with the papers out of the way the holo sprung back to life.

It was Keith and Shiro, at Shiro’s wedding.

Shiro’s breath caught in his throat.

“Guys,” Pidge said with a sense of urgency, “I’m in.”

They crowded around her. Before she could click through any of his files, one opened automatically and began to load.

“Whoa, what’s it doing?” Lance asked.

Pidge frowned. “I don’t know - wait, I think it’s-”

The file reached 100%.

Shiro drew in a breath. “ _Keith_.”

“Hey, guys,” Keith said.

He looked exhausted.

“It’s a recording,” Pidge said.

“If you’re seeing this, Pidge broke into my computer, which means something must have happened to me.” Keith ran a hand over his face, looked away from the camera and rubbed the back of his neck. “I… don’t really know what to say so I’ll just start talking. I think I might know of a way to bring Allura back.”

Beside him, Lance gasped. Shiro reached his hand to squeeze his shoulder.

“It’s difficult to explain. It has to do with this… this quintessence sensitivity I’ve got - which you all don’t know about. Right. Basically, it’s a family thing. I don’t really understand it but - it’s what led me to the Blue Lion, years ago. And I have this… this gut feeling again. I’ve had it for a while, and now that I know this about myself I have to follow it. I don’t know what it’s about, exactly, but I have a suspicion that it has to do with the Lions and with Allura.

“But I need more intel before I can be sure. So that’s what I’m doing here. I’ve checked all of Honerva’s old databases that we have access to but they were all wiped at some point. My best guess is that she had her scientists get rid of everything in the event of her disappearance. So I’m going to the last place I can think of that might have something left - the wreckage of the clone facility.”

Shiro’s eyes widened. “No.”

“The facility crash landed on a planet called Balara, which is beyond Coalition territory. It’s got some serious gravity fluctuations which may have slowed the fall significantly. If there’s anything salvageable, I’ll find it. And if not, at least I know I tried.

“I want you all to know that I have every intention of telling you as soon as I return. I just - I don’t know if my idea has anything going for it, and I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up if it doesn’t. The facility is in some rough space, but all our ships are fitted with cloaking technology so I’m not anticipating any trouble. But, like I said, if you’re in my office watching this then something happened. Something went wrong. And if that’s the case…”

He looked around, and though Shiro knew it was ridiculous, he felt as though Keith were looking at him, specifically.

“I’m so sorry that I failed.”

An image of Keith flashed in his mind. It was there and gone - his face bruised and bloody, violet eyes staring, holding the hood of his uniform up to block out a blustering wind.

“Shiro?” Hunk said, “Are you okay?”

He raised a hand to his forehead. “I -”

Another flash. Keith looked at him, his mouth shaping the beginning of a word.

“Whoa, man.” He felt hands on his chest and arms, leading him to sit in Keith’s desk chair. “Shit. Sit down.”

“ _Shiro_.”

He was on an ice planet he recognized. The fierce cold became daggers in his skin. To the side, he could see a Galra pod in flames, black smoke blowing with the harsh wind.

And Keith, already shuddering from the intense cold, was staring directly at Shiro.

“Keith,” Shiro said.

He gave no response. With horror, Shiro wondered if he was already so frozen that he couldn’t manage to speak. “Keith,” he tried again, taking a step closer, but the scenery around them pixelated and transformed until they were in front of a building - a rebel base.

But Keith was no longer standing. Too weak to move, he formed a lump in the snow, reaching desperately for the door.

“Keith!” In a panic, Shiro rushed to try to help him. The sound of a familiar, screeching roar stopped him dead in his tracks.

Before he could react, he was back in the office with several pairs of concerned eyes staring back at him.

“Shiro,” Krolia said, “Are you alright?”

“Coth Z1,” Shiro gasped, “He’s on Coth Z1. He found the base - I don’t know if he made it inside, but he found it, and that already gives him better chances.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely.”

“How are you certain?”

“I recognize the planet from when my clone crash landed there.” Shiro looked up. “I wasn’t sure before, but I am now. He’s there.”

She stood. “Then you must go.”

“We could use an extra ship,” Pidge said, “If we come into contact with whoever attacked Keith, just the one isn’t going to cut it.”

“That can be arranged,” Kolivan said, “But we must hurry.”

The rest occurred in a blur. Lance and Hunk made their way back to the airport for their ship, while Krolia and Kolivan brought Shiro and Pidge to the Blades’ private hangar. Krolia gathered heavy coats and flight suits for them.

As she handed Shiro his, she held onto it a moment longer. He looked up and met her eyes.

“He is my only child,” she said. “Bring him home.”

Shiro set his jaw and replied with a nod. She let go, and the hatch closed between them.

Pidge had already changed into her flight suit. She turned the other way while Shiro stripped out of his civilian clothes and pulled his own suit on. He slipped into the pilot seat and began preparations for takeoff.

There was something thrilling about being there. It had been years since he piloted into danger. It was the kind of work he had been restless for when he resigned.

He hated it was Keith he was rescuing. He hated how good it felt to be back in that seat.

Pidge had already taken over the role of communications. “Lance and Hunk, this is Pidge and Shiro. Do you copy?”

“We copy,” Hunk replied, “Preparing for takeoff.”

“Same here,” Pidge said, “I’m forwarding coordinates to you. When we’ve breached the atmosphere, wormhole there and cloak immediately. Over.”

“Got it. Hunk out.”

“You ready?” Shiro said.

Pidge took a deep breath. “Ready.”

“Alright.” Before them, a blinking light signaled the opening door, and the Daibazaal skyline appeared before them, purple sky stretching into oblivion.

“Let’s go get him.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: a bit of back tracking, a whole lot of Keith.


	2. false confidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternatively titled: keith and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. 
> 
> for real, tho: this chapter contains some gore and character death. ye be warned~

**Chapter 2**

_I wonder why I tear myself down to be built back up again_  
_Oh I hope somehow I'll wake up young again_  
_All that's left of myself, holes in my false confidence_  
_And I lay myself down and hope I wake up young again_

"False Confidence" - Noah Kahan

* * *

When Keith dreamed, he dreamed of fire.

It was a pattern he began to notice after the war. Sunsets became a sky of flames. Even the most pleasant recollections became volatile and destructive. Sometimes the flames burned on and on, sometimes they were quickly squelched by the vacuum of space, sometimes they began in the cockpit of a ship as a floating sphere that expanded until everything had been consumed. But the constant was always there. 

Keith woke with the memory of flames licking his fingertips and the sound of a familiar voice calling his name quickly evaporating with his strengthening grip on reality.

Sitting up in bed and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Keith attempted to put a name to the voice, but the dream was slipping away too rapidly to cling to any piece of it. The voices always changed; usually voices of the dead and gone, but not always. Sometimes he heard Shiro, and the last words they ever said to each other. 

Mostly it was Allura, calling to him for no reason that he could gather aside from punishment for his failure as her leader. 

Giving up on the hopeless task, he relinquished his hold on the last remaining pieces of the dream and decided it was nothing to be concerned with.

As his awareness slowly returned to him, he came to three important realizations: that he was not in his own bed, that he was very naked, and that he was not alone. To his right lay a Galran man, Kreil. Also naked. He was handsome; taller and buffer than Keith, with a lean, angular face. When his eyes were open, they were fully yellow like many Galra, but they were closed now, peaceful in sleep. Months ago, they met through work in the office of the Galran representatives to the Galactic Coalition. His mother's office. Kreil was his mother's secretary.

Needless to say, she didn't know about it, or if she did she was kind enough not to mention it. 

To his left lay Kreil’s wife, a Puigian woman called Niva.

It wasn’t serious.

After several flirtatious run-ins in the office while on his way to speak with Krolia or Kolivan, Kreil invited Keith to a dinner with his wife where he confessed his attraction. It was purely physical, but undeniably real. Niva had agreed to a casual arrangement. Keith, tired of going on dates with the Galra men and women his mother tried setting up with him, figured he might as well give it a shot.

And months later, here he was. 

Slipping out of bed unnoticed was more of a challenge from between two sleeping people, but Keith was nothing if not determined. Through the window the sky was still the soft purple of dawn, the planet’s star only just beginning to rise and painting the edges of the horizon a deep red. Finding the pile of his clothes on the floor, Keith dressed in silence. Sniffing his shirt, he frowned as the earthy smell of the evening's smoke stuck in his nose. In the absence of a brush, he combed his fingers through his long hair and tied it back.

“Leaving so soon?”

Kreil’s voice hovered over his ear, his breath tickling. Keith felt long fingers curl around his hips, warm lips press to his neck, and an unmistakable hardness against his ass.

“I’ve got an appointment in a couple vargas,” Keith said, “And I probably shouldn’t show up to it in yesterday’s clothes.”

“You come here,” Kreil said, voice muffled as he trailed kisses along Keith’s throat. His fingers found the collar of Keith's shirt and tugged it to the side, giving him better access to the dark tattoo that stretched across Keith's back to his bicep. “You smoke my drugs, you have sex with my wife, and then you just leave? Do I mean so little to you?”

“As much as I’d love to pity you, I can still _feel_ how much fun you had last night.”

Kreil laughed and dragged his fangs over Keith’s skin. It made him shiver. “Yes, and I’d love to have a little more fun with you. Perhaps against that wall…”

“Maybe next time.” Keith stepped away from Kreil’s embrace and reached for his jacket. “I gotta go home and shower.”

Niva sat up in bed, stretching her arms as the sheets fell away from her. “You could shower here.”

Keith slipped an arm into one sleeve, and then the other, feeling inside the pockets for his keys. They were empty. “Next time.”

Kreil pouted, positioning himself in front of Keith as he sat to pull on his boots. “And nothing I say will convince you to stay, hm?”

“It’s an important appointment.” Keith stood, settling his hands on Kreil’s hips and tugging him closer. The Galran smirked, long fingers settling on Keith’s jaw and angling his face for a kiss. “Now, go have fun with your wife.”

“Yes, sir,” Kreil said, and turned back to the bed. Keith watched as he gracelessly flopped onto Niva and they laughed and laughed together.

He smiled to himself. As much fun as it was to have someone find him irresistibly attractive, and as much as he detested the dating scene, the ache for something real was a frequent presence, especially when they acted like this with each other. For a brief, fleeting moment, he wondered what it must be like to love someone so much and be loved in return. Glancing around the apartment in search of his keys, he found them on the table beside the remnants of the previous night's blunts. He left without another word.

His motorcycle waited patiently at the curb for him. The rising star cast a red light over the Galra homeworld that, after years of living there, Keith still wasn’t quite used to.

The trip home was quick and relatively undisturbed. Kreil and Niva lived nearer to the city than Keith, and most of the traffic was still just beginning to head in for the day’s work. The farther out he went, the greater the distance between homes, until the roads were no longer paved and each way he looked he could see only fields of tall grass the shade of lavender for miles. He'd built his house himself in the style of a ranch, with a porch for him and lots of space for his four-legged roommate. The first time Lance and Hunk visited they found Keith on the porch, sprawled across a bench that dangled from ropes tied to the overhang, wearing a bandanna around his neck and smoking his alien weed. Lance had the nerve to call him a space cowboy and Keith tossed up his middle finger, and it was a defining moment of their friendship. 

Through the large front window he could see the space wolf, grown to about the size of an Earth moose, eagerly awaiting his return. Keith liked to say that he built the house in the country, with its distant neighbors and large windows and high ceilings, to accommodate the wolf. In truth, the open fields that stretched for miles were as close as he could get to the vast expanse of the desert that was once his home.

A self-imposed exile, perhaps, but at least this time it was by choice.

“Hey, buddy,” Keith said as he stepped inside. The wolf bounded over and, having long ago learned that he could no longer get away with teleporting into Keith’s arms, leaned down to tip his head to Keith’s. With a smile, Keith reached to scratch behind his ears and pressed a kiss to his snout. “Sorry I was gone so long.”

The wolf made a sound vaguely resembling a _boof_ and licked Keith’s cheek in response. Keith laughed, wiping his face with his sleeve. Slipping out of his boots, he left them beside the door and made his way to the shower.

Despite having made the permanent move two years before, packed boxes still sat in piles in the corners. He’d begun to use some as extra side tables, with lamps and books taking up residence on the surface. He no longer had any idea what most of them held. The Garrison had forwarded two boxes of the things he’d left behind after his expulsion; Keith was shocked that they’d kept them at all. The shack in the desert that had once been the storage shed of his childhood home somehow survived the Galra invasion, and he knew a few of the boxes held various items kept there that he couldn’t convince himself to throw away, artifacts of the life he had with his father that didn’t deserve to rot in a landfill.

Someday he would go through it all, but that would require motivation and a day off, and having both at the same time was a rarity.

Keith sat at the kitchen table in a thin bathrobe, his drying hair tossed over one shoulder as he meticulously worked it into a braid. A small television sat on the kitchen counter, set to the news channel where a Galran in a hideous striped suit recited the weather forecast. Keith only half paid attention, until his own voice cut through it.

“Hello. I’m Keith Kogane, leader of the Blade of Marmora. Everyday, millions of children across the universe are still suffering from the aftermath of -”

Paired with depressingly corny background music and a slideshow of sad children that looked like it could have been made by any kid with access to a computer, it was too much. Keith's face twisted and he growled in disgust. It was only fair he get a turn at the embarrassing propaganda after missing out on the Voltron Show to be with the Blades, and he understood that it needed to be played over and over to be effective, but he didn't have to like it. “Change channel.”

The screen switched to a rerun of _Bii-Boh Me_ which, for all of its own annoyances, was better.

As he finished the braid and tied up the end, the datapad on the table began to light up with an incoming call. “Mute,” he said, and the television silenced itself. Taking the datapad in hand, he took the call, and Pidge appeared onscreen.

Keith often expected calls from her around this time. She knew how to calculate the time differences, knew what time he would be getting ready for work, and was possibly the most determined of the remaining paladins to keep him from isolating completely.

And she was his friend.

“Oh my God,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “Put clothes on.”

“I’m in my own house and you can’t see anything,” Keith said, knowing he’d left his robe open and deciding out of spite to do absolutely nothing about it. “What’s up?”

“Actually, I’ve got something pretty cool I wanted to talk to you about,” she said, reaching to adjust the glasses she no longer wore. “There’s a group of Olkari who have been really helpful working out some tech stuff with us and they were talking about how they’d adapted their technology to the desert environment, so obviously me and Matt had to see that, and we’re all gonna go camping in a couple of weeks.”

“You and Matt are going camping?” Keith asked, lifting a brow. “Pidge, you hate camping.”

“But I love learning about new tech,” Pidge said, “And, you know, I might hate it a little less if I had a friend along who _loves_ camping.”

“I’m sure Hunk would love to go.”

“No, jerk, I’m talking about you.” Though Pidge attempted to look unamused, she couldn’t fight back her smile completely. “Listen, I know you’ve been working a lot, and I know you don’t like taking too many vacations because you feel like you’ve gotta help the entire universe all by yourself or something. But! This isn’t just a vacation. The Olkari we’re going with are refugees and they’re going to show us some of the work they’ve done to better adapt to their new environments. Maybe it could help with a mission somewhere, you know? Plus it’s a camping trip, and I know you love camping, and I miss your face.”

The sentiment was touching, though Keith would never admit it. “Didn’t I see you, uh… three weeks ago? For that conference?”

“For, like, two seconds in passing. Come on, Keith. You went to Cuba with Lance and Hunk, come back to Arizona for a couple of days.”

Keith scratched the back of his neck and gave a concerted effort to look anywhere else but at her. “I dunno. There’s a lot going on with the Blades right now. I mean, there’s always a lot going on, but right now especially with these terrorists popping up everywhere.”

Something like worry crossed Pidge’s face, but she forced it down. “Yeah, I’ve seen on the news. But maybe that’s all the more reason for you to take a break.”

“I’ll get back to you, okay?”

“I’m gonna send you the details,” Pidge said, already moving her hands off screen. “Let me know as soon as you can. I know Matt really wants to see you, too, by the way. So please at least consider it.”

“I will.” When Pidge looked skeptical, he amended, “I promise.”

“Okay.” A beat, and then, softer, “And Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Be safe out there.”

Keith’s smile was gentle. It wasn’t lost on him that he was the only remaining paladin still out in the fight. Hunk’s cooking empire took off and he left the Atlas behind. Pidge and her family still helped with operations at the Garrison, but their work mostly involved upgrading and inventing tech; with the Green Lion gone, Pidge was no longer a pilot, and the skills didn’t transfer easily enough for her to want to continue with the role. Lance occasionally accompanied Keith on some of his missions closer to Earth’s system, and was a lifesaver when Keith couldn’t make it to Earth to meet their own humanitarian needs personally. And Shiro -

Shiro was dealing with his own battles. Keith couldn’t fault him for that.

And he couldn’t fault the others for worrying about him, either, when he was the only one consistently put into dangerous situations years after the war’s end.

“I will.” Another beat. “I promise.”

Pidge nodded. “Good.”

“I gotta get to work.”

“Okay. See you.”

“See you.” Keith clicked out of the call and for a moment only sat in the silence that filled the room. Through his window he could see the skyline of the capital city towering over the lavender fields, and the star’s light glinting off the glass buildings and a gentle breeze in the grass. Ships glided across the sky. It was peaceful in a way that seemed impossible.

If he wanted to bask in that peace for as long as he could before risking being late, then he would. The truth of it was that his appointment was less of an appointment and more of a potentially dangerous, covert operation, but that was all a matter of semantics.

They took a Blade-issued transport ship; it was big enough to hold a team of Blades in the hull, and certainly less conspicuous than a fleet of fighters. Typically, transport ships were only to be used for that - transport. They brought resources to planets in need. The ship was outfitted with cloaking technology but had no weapons. It was not designed for battle.

It was the perfect disguise.

“The last mission to Xasiea resulted in an ambush,” Keith had said at the briefing, “They want the resources we’re bringing in. It’s unclear whether it’s just to keep the locals from getting them or if it’s for their own use, but regardless they’ll let a transport ship through without suspicion.”

“Transport ships are entirely defensive,” Zethrid had said, “If anything goes wrong, we won’t have a way to fight back. We won’t have a way to get off the planet.”

“They didn’t destroy the last ship we sent there, which means they know destroying it is going to bring an entire fleet right to them. Our forces still outnumber them, and they don’t want to go against us in another war. They want to attack the helpless. They want easy wins. And even though they’re impersonating us, they don’t have a clue as to how we actually operate.”

“We take a transport ship and land on the planet as if we are there to provide more resources,” Acxa had said, “And when the Knights attempt to ambush us again, we retaliate with a hull full of highly trained warriors.”

“And if we do run into any trouble on the way in, or out, I’ll be piloting,” Keith had said, as if that was the only safety net they needed.

It was.

The Blades of Marmora transitioned into a primarily humanitarian organization when the war ended, but a few elite groups were kept active specifically for missions like these. There had been a brief, naive hope in the beginning that they would never be needed, but the universe loved finding ways to disappoint.

They moved quick and smooth through space with Keith at the pilot’s seat, their ruse undetected as he maneuvered them through the first layers of atmosphere.

“Remember, Keith.” Acxa’s voice came through the earpiece attached to his suit. “Xasiea’s atmosphere is toxic to the human biology. You must keep your mask on at all times.”

“Right,” Keith said. The Blade masks, when deactivated, were stored within their earpiece and would transform to cover the wearer's head. But if the earpiece was thrown off, so was the mask. “As a hypothetical, if my mask were to come off…?”

Acxa’s voice was flat. “Don’t breathe.”

Keith pursed his lips. The surface of the planet neared, and he could already see the locals gathering in wait. Among the trees sat an old Galra ship. “Got it. Mask stays on.”

They hovered a moment over the landing pad.

“The Knights are here,” Keith said, setting them down. “Be on your guard.”

He made sure his mask was on and secure, checked his oxygen levels once, and opened the hatch.

When he joined the other Blades in the hull, Acxa and Ezor had already begun handing out rations to the local people. The Xasieans were a reptilian species with green scales that allowed them to more easily blend into the surrounding jungle, humanoid in size with split tongues and a language made of hissing and guttural sounds. The rest of the Blades hid crouched behind crates of food, water, and quintessence vials, masks on and hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.

“We’ll take care of it from here.”

The voice was deep, distorted. Keith peered around the crates, eyes locking on the massive figure, dressed in the uniform of the Blades. The man stood at least two heads taller than Ezor, and was about as wide as the both of them put together. His hand covered the hilt of his blade, which rested in its full form at his belt. A stolen blade remained in the form it was taken in until its owner, or any other true Blade, could reclaim it. The true test for a stolen blade was in its glow. The blade was connected to its master's life force, meaning its glow died with its owner.

The man’s hand shifted just enough for Keith to see their symbol dull and lifeless. Beneath his mask, his eyes narrowed.

“Oh, honey, no,” Ezor said. She and Acxa stepped out of the ship’s hull, letting their masks fall into place.

“We were hoping you’d make an appearance,” Acxa said, voice silky smooth. “This is your chance to surrender.”

The imposter laughed. “Surrender to you? We’re taking this shipment, girl.”

Ezor hummed the way she did when she pretended to be disappointed. “We thought you'd say that. You might regret that you did.”

On cue, the other Blades rose and stepped into the clearing, weapons drawn.

“Second chance,” Keith said, taking up the center. “Surrender and leave this planet, now.”

The imposter stood, looking between them in consideration for a long moment. At last, his reply came in a low growl. “ _No_.”

He drew his blade, and from the trees appeared the rest of his team, each in their own copied uniform, with their own stolen blade. The locals, frightened, abandoned the clearing. The rest stood still, waiting to see who would make the first move.

The imposter drew his blade and raised it toward the sky. “Victory or death!” he said, and lunged for Keith.

Keith and the other Blades stood perfectly still until, at the last moment, Keith dodged to the side, slid beneath the assailant’s arm on his knees, and with his blade slit the back of the man’s heel. His scream of pain prompted the rest into action, and within moments the clearing fell into chaos.

It didn’t take long to subdue most of the Knights. They weren’t highly skilled Galra warriors like the Blades. They weren’t even former generals of Zarkon’s army, seeking power through force. They were, by and large, civilians in costume, and their captures were swift and relatively painless. 

Their leader was another story.

Keith, Acxa, and Ezor all took him on at once, and he still managed to hold them off. It was not the Blade’s way to use lethal force when an enemy could be subdued, but that option was becoming less and less likely. It didn’t help that the man stood taller than Zethrid, and that he might as well have been made of rock for all that their punches were accomplishing. Keith managed to to disarm him, but any further progress in his arrest was stifled. 

With one arm, the Knight grabbed Ezor by the wrist and knocked her backward into Acxa, sending them both stumbling across the clearing. Keith heard Zethrid call out for them, but before he could check to make sure they were alright the same hand knocked the blade from his own, latched onto his throat and lifted him off his feet.

Knowing what was coming, Keith sucked in as much oxygen as he could before the mask was knocked off his face.

“Keith Kogane,” the Knight said, voice taunting. His own mask deactivated, revealing the scarred face of a Galran. “I thought you’d be bigger.”

“Keith!” Acxa called out.

Unable to speak or breathe, Keith scrambled to pry the hand off of him. The Knight was so large, he could likely crush Keith’s skull in his grip, and it certainly seemed that he had every intention to if the toxins didn’t kill Keith first.

“Poor human,” said the Knight, “Your bodies are so weak and fragile. You can’t even breathe this air. I’m almost disappointed. I expected more from the great Kogane.”

Keith’s eyes were squeezed shut. When they opened, the scleras had become yellow, the irises thinned like a Galran’s. His fingers formed claws, his teeth fangs. It was a change that came only as a survival instinct, when his body could tell his was in distress. 

The Knight smirked. “There you are.”

Keith croaked, as if attempting to speak, and the Knight held him closer to his face. “What was that?” he asked, smug.

It was all the opportunity Keith needed to strike at the man’s eye with his newly formed claws.

With a scream, the Knight dropped Keith and stumbled backward. Seeing stars from the lack of oxygen, Keith fell to his knees, covering his mouth and nose with a hand to prevent himself from inhaling the toxic air. The Knight lunged for him with a shout, blood pouring from his eye, and Keith only just managed to roll out of the way, grabbing his mask out of the dirt as he went.

He settled it back into place and gasped as the oxygen flowed. But there was no time to rest; he gave himself only a moment to survey the scene. All Knights but their leader were subdued, either flat on the ground with their hands bound behind their backs, or pinned to the trees with their own weapons. The Blades surrounded the leader, but he had taken to plowing them down with his own body like a trapped animal with no remaining options. Keith spotted the stolen blade in the dirt, as well as his own, and dove for them both.

Zethrid and Ezor together managed to force the leader to his knees, and he struggled against them until Keith stepped into place with both blades positioned against his throat like a pair of scissors. One flick of Keith’s wrist and he would lose his head.

“Last chance,” Keith said as the others stepped up behind him, “Surrender. Now.”

The Knight glared up at him. “Victory or death.”

Keith looked up at Zethrid. She nodded, and twisted a fist into the Knight’s hair, drawing him back and then thrusting his head toward the ground. Keith pulled the blades back before his throat could reach them, and his forehead smacked into the hard dirt with enough force to knock him unconscious.

“Make sure he and the others are secured,” Keith said, settling his own blade back in its sheath and flipping the other around in his hand so its point faced down. “The Coalition will take it from here.”

* * *

Back on Daibazaal, Keith, being the leader, was called into the Coalition’s representatives’ office. He entered with a bag of stolen luxite blades on his shoulder and dropped it with a clang.

“Those can get added to the memorial,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “There’s about a dozen in there.”

“We’ll make sure the artist gets them,” Krolia said, “Mission report?”

“All Knights were captured without use of lethal force. No civilian casualties. The Coalition is going to carry out the rest of the investigation, so they’ll probably have more to tell you in the next quintant or so.”

“And the first transport vessel?” Kolivan asked.

Keith worried his bottom lip between his teeth, looking down. “We found it about half a mile into the woods. Everything was taken. There were no survivors.”

Krolia closed her eyes.

“I see,” Kolivan said. He stepped around his desk and settled a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “You did well today in apprehending them. These people must be stopped before we have another war on our hands.”

Keith took in a slow breath. “Thanks.”

“If you will excuse me, I must contact the Coalition directly about this matter,” Kolivan said. He turned toward Keith’s mother. “Krolia?”

She opened her eyes again and gave a weak smile. “Go on, Kolivan. I need to speak with Keith first.”

“Of course.” Kolivan stepped out, and the door slid shut behind him.

“This isn’t your fault,” Krolia said before Keith could manage a word.

“I’m the one who gave Xasiea the OK for civilian volunteers,” Keith said. He sank into the chair opposite Krolia’s desk, massaging his aching temple. “It was supposed to be safe, but it wasn’t, and now they’re dead. It’s my fault.”

“You had no way of knowing the Knights would target them.” Krolia stepped around the desk and leaned against it, in front of him. “They haven’t dared to breach Coalition territory before. Xasiea _should_ have been safe.”

“Yeah.” It was no use trying to convince him, and Krolia had to know that by now; it was all too easy for him to brush off his own accomplishments, but anything he could regard as a failure stuck to his bones and added to the weight he bore. Preventable loss of life was the worst failure of them all. “This might be a sign they’re getting braver. I think we should pull civilian volunteers out of all planets along the border of the Neutral Zone for the time being.”

“We can discuss that when you’ve had a bit of rest.” Krolia reached forward, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear and gently holding his cheek. “You seem more tired than usual, my love.”

“Just a lot on my mind,” Keith said. It was a partial truth, but he wasn’t about to tell his mother that he’d been up half the night engaging in casual three-way sex with her secretary and his wife.

“Of course.” Krolia dropped her hand. “Remember, we have dinner with my grandfather tonight.”

Keith exhaled a slow breath, wiping his hand over his face. Somehow the dinner had slipped his mind, despite the fact he had been the one to arrange it. Maybe there really was a lot on his mind. “Right. Yes. Dinner. Okay.”

“Will you be alright?”

“Yes.” Keith steeled himself, looking up at her. “I’ll be fine. It’s like you said, I just have to rest a bit.”

“Have you been following Dr. Sylvan’s advice?”

He winced. “Mom.”

“You are still seeing Dr. Sylvan, yes?”

“ _Mom_.”

“It’s a genuine question, Keith.”

“Yes, I’m still seeing Dr. Sylvan,” Keith said through gritted teeth, “Are you done?”

“I just worry.” Krolia crossed her arms and offered a small smile to show that she was aware she was being a bit overbearing. Living so many years without a parent left it feeling strange and unfamiliar, and though he loved her dearly, he didn't know how else to respond to this kind of parenting aside from vague annoyance. “You are my child, I’m allowed.”

“I’ve got some work to finish before dinner.” Keith stood. “And you should probably join Kolivan.”

A frown tugged at Krolia’s mouth. There was more she wanted to say, more she wanted to worry about, but she let it slide. “Yes, I should. I’ll see you at the restaurant tonight.”

“Yeah, see you.” He was quick to step out of her office, the door sliding open to allow him exit, only slowing to offer a polite greeting to Kreil at his desk. If Kreil spent his break that day in Keith’s office helping him relieve some of his stress, that could stay between them.

By the time he’d finished filling out his mission report, and all the accompanying paperwork, the star was halfway set. This, Keith could say without the shadow of a doubt, was the worst part of his work. Kolivan insisted that it came with the position of leadership. Sometimes Keith wondered if this was why Shiro quit.

 _Not quit_ , he reminded himself. _Retired_.

_Retired at barely twenty-eight years old._

He’d set a stack of papers on top of the holo of himself and Shiro specifically so he wouldn’t start to think about it. He should’ve known from experience that it would take more than that to keep Shiro off his mind.

Over a year later he still thought about it. Unconsciously, he glanced at his communicator where it sat on his desk.

If nothing else, the flashing clock on the screen reminded him he needed to go home and get ready for dinner.

* * *

He arrived at the restaurant in a red collared shirt with the first few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair had been wrestled into something resembling a bun. It wasn't the most formal of outfits, but it would have to do - there was only so much time he could waste standing in front of a mirror and stressing about his looks before he reminded himself all too much of Lance and gave up out of pure frustration.

Dozens of pairs of eyes stared him down from the moment he parked at the curb. Being one of the saviors of all realities made it difficult to be inconspicuous in public; being apparently the only human on the entire planet of Daibazaal made it impossible. Though it was dark, Keith wore a pair of sunglasses to block the shadows under his eyes from nosy paparazzi. 

Going from the loner kid to the most recognized face in the universe wasn’t the easiest transition. Some days, when his weariness showed more than he would like, he was more willing to admit just how much he hated it. 

He spotted Krolia across the restaurant and removed the glasses, tucking them on the collar of his shirt. Behind her, an elderly Galran man sat in a wheelchair, sipping a violet drink through a straw. She smiled when she saw him.

“Keith.” As he approached, she stepped up and kissed his cheek, setting a hand on his shoulder and leading him around to stand before their guest. “I would like you to meet my grandfather, Novak.”

Novak was a wrinkled, frail-looking man with streaks of white atop his head. Keith could see a familiarity in the curve of his jaw, and his eyes were identical to Krolia’s. The man craned his neck to look up at them, and Keith took it upon himself to crouch down to eye-level.

“Grandfather,” Krolia said, voice prideful. “This is your great-grandson, Keith.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Keith said.

“The honor is mine.” Novak reached out and took Keith’s hand in both of his own. “The stories I have heard about you… I knew you must be blood when I saw your picture on all the news. You look so, so much like my Krolia, and from what I’ve heard, you are just as fierce.”

Krolia’s laugh was soft. “If not more so.”

“When Krolia left to join the Blades, I thought it was the end of our family. So many of us were destroyed by Zarkon’s reign. I have buried each of my own children over the deca-phoebs.” Novak smiled sadly. “But we live on through you. I could not be more proud.”

Keith forced down a wave of emotion. “Thank you, sir.”

“Come sit,” Krolia said, “I’m sure we have much to talk to about.”

As it turned out, Novak was nearing his thousandth birthday and had many, _many_ things to talk about. He told stories of his time as a soldier in Zarkon’s army before he was able to see past the propaganda and the lies. He told the story of how he met his wife, and stories about their children, and about raising Krolia. He asked Keith about his own childhood and about his father, and what it was like to grow up in a world ignorant of Zarkon’s atrocities. Keith wasn’t sure how long they talked for, but the restaurant was beginning to clear and their meal was long ago served and eaten.

Keith wished he could freeze time for a little while, just to let his great-grandfather talk for as long as he wanted. Though he had long ago accepted that the people he came from did not define him, it still felt incredible to finally _know_ , after so many years in the dark, to have something to hold onto and call his own. It was nearing the restaurant’s closing time when Novak fell into a tangent about their older ancestors, his own parents and their parents and theirs. It was almost surreal, knowing that the people he spoke of were alive two thousand years before. That amount of time was incomprehensible. 

“They were unfortunate pawns to the empire,” he said of his own great-grandparents. “Zarkon wanted to use their sensitivity to quintessence to his own advantage. It brought our family under his thumb for generations.”

“Sensitivity to quintessence?” Keith asked.

“Oh, they had the ability to feel the quintessence in the universe in ways others couldn’t. It called out to them, in a way. Made them valuable in Zarkon’s efforts to harvest as much as possible. It’s a skill that has been passed through our family for thousands of years, ever since the Altean.”

Keith blinked. He looked at Krolia, who seemed just as taken aback. “Altean?” she said.

“Yes, an Altean. Far, far back in our family line there was an Altean alchemist. Before Zarkon’s corruption and the destruction of Altea, of course. And when it was still acceptable to marry outside the Galra.”

Keith leaned forward on his elbows. “We’re Altean?”

“Well, like I said, it was over ten thousand years ago. The quintessence sensitivity is all that remains of our Altean ancestor. I personally did not have it, but my parents and great-grandparents had it, and my children had it.”

“I don’t believe I have it,” Krolia said, brow furrowed. They both turned to Keith.

He remembered the feeling all those years ago in the desert, calling him out to search for what he eventually learned was the Blue Lion. He remembered constantly feeling drawn to the stars as a child, only to learn that half his genetics were not of Earth. It made sense, then, why his abilities as a paladin improved exponentially once he’d finally been patient enough to unlock them, why he could communicate with the space wolf in a way that others couldn't, and so many other coincidences.

And the voices in his head -

“I... I think I might.”

“Remarkable,” Novak said, tilting his head with a grin.

“It would explain a lot.” Keith’s voice was soft, rough. His focus shifted. He could hear the whispers again, in the back of his mind, despite all of his efforts to push them away. He was aware that Novak was speaking, off on another tangent about their quintessence sensitive ancestors but, lost in his thoughts, Keith could only catch every other word.

“It’s getting late,” Krolia said, “I should get you back to your accommodation, Grandfather.”

“I hadn’t even noticed,” Novak said, “I suppose I should be getting back. Old men like me aren’t meant to be up this late.”

“Keith, would you help Novak out to the car while I get the bill?”

Hearing his own name pulled him back to reality. “Uh - yeah, I can do that.” Standing, he unlocked the wheels on Novak’s chair.

“It was truly a pleasure to meet you at last, Keith,” Novak said as Keith helped maneuver him between tables and chairs. “I hope you’ll stay in contact. You know, there’s this old Earth game I got on my datapad recently that we could play.”

“What game is that?” Keith asked.

“It’s called ‘Words With Friends.’”

Keith couldn't help but be endeared. “Yeah, okay. We can play that.”

“I’ll add you when I get back to the hotel,” Novak said. At the curb, Keith locked the wheels again and offered his arm as support while Novak shuffled into the car.

Krolia appeared from inside the restaurant as he settled in. She leaned in to make sure he was buckled in. “I’ll be right with you, Grandfather, I just need to talk to Keith for one moment.”

Closing the door, she turned to Keith. “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Keith asked.

“Once Novak told us about our Altean ancestor, you might as well have been in another star system.”

Keith shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m fine. The whole - quintessence sensitive thing just gave me a lot to think about. On top of everything else I’m already thinking about. And I'm tired. It's been a long day.”

“Perhaps you should take tomorrow off.” She set a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You have been working very hard, and today you took major steps towards defeating the Knights. You deserve to rest.”

“I wouldn’t give the mission that much credit.”

“I would.” Krolia kissed the top of his forehead before stepping back. “Take tomorrow to yourself. That’s an order from your commanding officer.”

“Well, if I have no choice.” Keith smiled, uncrossed his arms and stepped back from the car. “Have a good night, Mom.”

Krolia stepped into the car and slid into the seat beside Novak. Before she closed the door, she leaned out and said, “Drive safe. Tell the wolf I say hello.” He waved once as the car pulled away from the curb, then found his motorcycle and headed home.

With the amount of attention he paid to the road, it was astonishing he didn’t crash. His mind spun off its axis, thoughts of every instance over the past several years that suddenly made _sense_ sending him deeper into chaos. He parked and hurried inside, hands shaking. The wolf noticed his state and teleported to his side, anxiously sniffing and licking his cheeks.

“Not now, buddy,” Keith said, hand gentle as he moved the wolf’s snout away and stepped around him. With another whine, the wolf followed.

The voices poked and prodded at the back of his mind. He scrambled through drawer after drawer for his drugs, too wound up to remember where he’d last left them. In the absence of another solution, when the voices got so bad that he wasn't sleeping, and the space wolf had to create a physical barrier between him and the wall so he wouldn't bang his head against it to get them to shut up, a few hits had worked wonders.

Dr. Sylvan advised against it, but nothing else worked, and there was only so much he could handle.

When finally he found them, he was quick to roll a joint; not his best, but it would do what it needed to. He leaned back against the bed, raising joint and lighter to his lips - and paused.

If he _was_ quintessence sensitive, there was a chance the voices weren't only in his head, that they were attempts at a message that couldn't get across because he wouldn't let it. And if that was the case, then wouldn't the answer to be to finally listen? 

He bit his lip. It was a solution he had considered over the years and dreaded all the same, because while he was perfectly capable of taking a beating, he couldn’t bear the disappointment of the people he most loved. It was a fact proven by his Trials, and time and time again.

But if these voices _were_ real -

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let them in.

He was standing in the infinite void of the cosmos, the Lions’ mindspace, and he wasn’t alone.

“Keith.”

The voice was familiar, and weak, and behind him. He spun, and it felt like the air had been punched from his lungs.

Allura stood before him. Weak, clearly exhausted, but alive. "I was starting to think I would never get through to you." 

"Is this real? How - how are you doing this?" 

"This is real," she said, "But there is no time to explain now. We are growing weaker, Keith. We cannot sustain all realities like I believed we could." 

The admission was alarming. "What do I need to do?" 

She reached a hand towards him, and he stepped closer. “Allura-”

Without warning, she collapsed. Keith leapt forward, but as he reached her she fell straight through him.

His eyes snapped open with a shout.

The space wolf whined and nuzzled Keith’s face. Sweat dotted his skin and his entire body shook as he gasped for breath.

“No, no, no,” he said, and scrambled to his feet. Bursting through the door with the concerned wolf in his wake, he stumbled into the field, staring up at the sky and its billions of stars. “Allura, talk to me. Come _back._ ”

The stars only stared back, blinking through their silence.

“Allura, please.” Desperation cracked his voice, and he fell to his knees in the grass. “Please, talk to me.”

When her voice came to him, it was faint, a whisper in the breeze through the field that barely reached his ears. “ _Honerva._ ”

In a night of surprises, he still managed to be bewildered. Sitting back on his feet, his composure crawled back to him, racing pulse slowing to a reasonable beat. The wolf moved to his side, lowering his head to inspect Keith with care.

Keith wrapped an arm around the wolf’s neck and leaned heavily against him. “How come the universe always has to be so damn cryptic? Huh, bud?”

The wolf _boofed_ and teleported them inside.

* * *

In the morning, Keith returned to Krolia’s office with a datapad in hand.

“Keith, I thought I told you to take the day off,” she said. Kolivan stood by her side, the pair of them looking over a file together.

“You did, and I am. But this is important.” He held out the datapad. “I need a signature.”

Krolia took the device, scrolling through the file. When she’d seen what she needed to see, she looked up at him with little effort to mask her surprise. “You’re requesting personal time off?”

Kolivan peered over her shoulder. “Do you believe that’s wise? Yesterday’s victory against the Knights was invaluable, but the Blades still need your leadership.”  

“I have faith that Acxa will manage well enough without me for a little while. And she has you two if she needs anything.”

“What brought this on?” Krolia asked.

Keith crossed his arms and shrugged. He knew, in the back of his mind, that he could trust her with this, and perhaps even Kolivan. But they also were the two who pushed the hardest for him to seek Dr. Sylvan’s help when the voices first started, and he could only imagine their faces if he told them that he not only still heard them, but that they were telling him to go on a dangerous mission back to the place where all realities meet to bring Princess Allura back from the dead, and that he planned on doing just that.

So he lied. “I just need a break.”

“Didn't you take a vacation to Earth very recently with some of the paladins?” Kolivan said. Krolia jabbed him with her elbow, and he tried again. “I merely mean that - needing another vacation period so soon is concerning. Is everything alright, Keith?”

“Everything is fine. And it’s not a vacation.” He was purposeful as he avoided eye contact with his mother. “There’s some personal stuff I need to take care of that I haven’t had the chance to focus on because of how much work I’ve been doing. If I don’t take a break, I’m never gonna get it done. There’s still boxes in my house I haven’t unpacked yet.”

Kolivan blinked. “Haven’t you lived here for two deca-phoebs?”

Keith gestured, as if this proved his point. “Exactly.”

“I can’t give you time off for at least another movement or so,” Krolia said. “There are some missions coming up you are needed for that cannot be rescheduled.”

“That’s alright. As soon as possible doesn't need to be immediately.” Keith finally met her gaze. “I’m also going to need a ship. Battle-class, if possible.”

Krolia furrowed her brow, setting the datapad on her desk. “What do you need a battle-class ship for, Keith?”

“If the Knights entered Coalition territory once, they might again, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve probably got about a dozen extra targets on my back after yesterday. It’s precautionary.”

His mother’s frown said everything she didn’t.

Kolivan took the datapad from her desk. “I can sign off on the ship, trusting that you plan only to use its weaponry if you are provoked and that you are not expecting to, say, fly into terrorist-occupied space.”

Keith pressed his lips together. “That’s the plan.”

“Very well.” With his finger, Kolivan signed his name. He held the datapad out to Krolia, and with reluctance she signed her own name as well.

“Thank you,” Keith said, taking the datapad back and tucking it under his arm. At the time, it wasn’t meant to be a lie - he had no intention of going directly into the Knights’ territory.

But it would have been easier to avoid if any of Honerva’s notes had survived the war.

Rather, if any of her files were still stored in _any_ of the number of databases that had been recovered from Galra cruisers after the war. But with every computer her scientists had contact with, he was met with the same answer: a resounding _I’m sorry sir, but there’s nothing here._

He couldn’t go asking the paladins for help with nothing to go off of but a voice in his head. And as much as he searched the depths of his brain for any other ideas, he could think of only one more option. It would already be dangerous, and the Knights could only further complicate things. If anything were to happen to him, no one would know why he was doing this. Lying to his mother and Kolivan, and keeping this from his friends, seemed worse by the minute. 

Before he left his office the day before his departure, the camera on his computer caught his attention.

He signed off with a message prepared, just in case. 

* * *

In the morning, he spent an extra few moments saying his goodbyes to the space wolf. The creature had grown too big to fit inside the ship he’d been allotted, and would be under Krolia’s care until his return. Keith made sure he had the frequency for his doggy-cam, just in case he got lonely on the journey.

Krolia arrived in the hangar as he prepared for takeoff. The ship really was small, only able to fit one person with room on the floor for a small bag. It was a fighter, the only battle-class ship they could get him on such short notice. Keith, dressed in his Blade uniform, stepped out of the ship as she approached to greet her.

She was wary watching him, and Keith couldn’t blame her. “You have everything you need?”

“I’m all set.” Keith descended the last of the stairs and reached an arm to pull her into a hug. “But I’ll let you know if I need anything while I’m out there.”

“Keith.” Her arms enveloped him, holding him tight to her chest like she meant to shield him from the world. “Where are you going?”

“I told you,” he said, grateful she couldn’t see his face, “I’ve got some personal business to take care of.”

“And you know it worries me when you keep secrets.”

Keith wanted to resent her for it, but he knew his behavior earned her concern. “I’ll be back before you know it,” was all he said, plastering a smile onto his lips as he pulled away. “But I gotta get moving.”

Reluctant, she let him go. “Be safe.”

Keith gave her a nod. “I will.” Entering the ship, she was the last thing he saw as he closed the hatch. The pilot’s seat invited him as the large hangar doors opened to the purple Daibazaal skyline. With a long breath, Keith took off, flew from the hangar and into the sky through a layer of clouds and into a bursting of stars. With a wormhole jump, it would only be a few hours to his destination. Most of it would be in dangerous territory, but his ship was equipped with the latest cloaking technology.

In short, he wasn’t as concerned as he should have been.

Activating cloaking, Keith set the coordinates for the wormhole’s endpoint. A void of space split open before him, and he flew into its heart, letting it carry him through to the edge of Coalition space. Small satellites marked the border, sending a warning transmission to any passing ship.

“ _You are about to exit the Galactic Coalition. The Neutral Zone is currently under a Level 3 travel advisory due to an increase in piracy and terrorism in the area. You are advised to reconsider travelling further unless absolutely necessary._ ” The message repeated as Keith passed the satellites, continued until he closed the frequency and was met with the silence of empty space.

The Neutral Zone was composed of space under the control of planets that had, for whatever reason, not joined the Galactic Coalition. Some planets, in the furthest edges of the known universe who had managed even to evade the Galra invasions, believed they were better off on their own. Others were ruled by tyrants who refused to enter a partnership that did not leave them in the highest possible position of power. Some welcomed the Blade of Marmora’s assistance; others decreed any attempt to enter the atmosphere by a Blade member or Coalition officer would be considered invasive action and a declaration of war. During the first year after the war, it was the area of space rogue Galra in positions of power and other Zarkon loyalists fled to if they chose not to be a part of the new republic.

But even so, it was relatively peaceful those first two years. Then, the first attacks began cropping up; relatively small shows of power and ruthlessness, which many of the planets claimed they could handle on their own. The Coalition didn’t get involved. The Blades offered relief where they could.

Small power grabs became invasions. Monarchies fell. The territories became more treacherous, places only highly trained Blades could go. But despite the growth of their influence, they were still no match for the constantly evolving Galactic Coalition. The Knights worked with old, out-of-date Galra technology, making it easy to get in and out with little issue. This was Keith’s expectation.

Nothing could ever be easy.

Cloaking was the first to go. Keith was alerted by a low beeping as the ship was revealed, completely vulnerable in the open space.

Communications went next, but he wouldn’t come to that realization until much later.

No longer protected by invisibility, Keith was forced into high alert as he trekked through the Neutral Zone to the planet Balara. The remnants of destroyed ships were scattered throughout the journey, warning signs of the danger ahead. Balara was an ovular, heavily cratered desert planet. It was barely habitable, and only in places where the fluctuating gravity never became crushing. Its location deep within the Neutral Zone scared away anyone who might have dared to live there.

It was also the planet which pulled in the wreckage of the clone facility after the battle between Keith and Shiro’s clone tore it apart.

Keith navigated the gravity fluctuations with caution. One wrong move would result in his ship being dragged to the planet’s surface and crushed into the dirt. As he passed over the mountains of sandstone, the remains of ships both ancient and modern proved that he wouldn’t be the first.

The wreckage of the clone facility appeared in the distance, its jagged bridge half-buried within the planet and towering above the sand. Keith slowed into a descent and touched down among hundreds of darkened cryogenic pods.

He tried not to think about the once precious cargo they contained. Many of them had shattered, with old blood crusted on the remaining shards of glass.

Keith didn’t dare look inside.

Approaching the bridge, he could see the deformed metal where Shiro’s arm blasted it apart. The facility itself was flipped nearly upside-down and half buried. Keith walked around the perimeter in search of an entrance and, finding a porthole, smashed the glass to gain access to the inside.

It was entirely dark, which shouldn't have been a surprise. Without emergency power, he wouldn’t be able to access any computers that survived the crash and the entire mission would be a bust. Keith kept a firm grip on the wall and closed his eyes, remembering the skills he’d inherited from his quintessence sensitive ancestors.

A weak, pulsing energy called to him from deep within the facility. Keith opened his eyes, turned the light in the wrist of his suit on, and let go of the wall, sliding downward across the ceiling deeper into the planet. Reaching the bottom, he followed the energy, swiping his light from left to right. The place was completely deserted, the beam catching only floating particles of dust.

At last he reached the control room. Without power, the handprint key was ineffective, so he drew his blade and pried the door open. Inside was a number of control panels and computers, all upside-down, and at the center was the facility’s dormant energy core, the apparent source of the energy Keith had followed. A panel on the far end of the room read in the Galran language **_emergency power_** , with a manual lever rather than handprint recognition. Keith thanked the architect for at least being practical, moved to the lever and with all his strength pulled it down.

The energy core thrummed to life. Purple lights flicked on one at a time, chasing away the dark and illuminating the facility piece by piece.

It was a stroke of luck, but Keith wasn’t about to question it.

With no indication of how long the emergency power would last, Keith activated the suction technology at the feet and fingertips of his suit and began to climb. The monitors began to glow with activity where they hung from the ceiling, restarting after years without use. Another stroke of luck, Keith realized as he reached them, hanging fully upside-down from the ceiling himself, that they were functioning at all and hadn't been completely destroyed in the crash landing. He set his hand against the keypad and it burst into life, loading file after file.

Keith pulled a data chip from his utility belt, set it in the hard drive, and began searching.

At first, it seemed like his luck had run out. Dozens of files into the system, he found nothing of use. It was typical that he should make it this far to still accomplish nothing at all. His mistake, it seemed as he scrolled through file after hideous file of details on the work with the clones, was assuming that all of Honerva’s files would be saved into one shared server. That would have made something like this possible - finding all of her work on one computer in one location. It would have been too dangerous for her. Keith almost felt foolish for thinking she would ever be so careless.

And then he found something.

It wasn’t much - a blueprint of one of her early mecha designs. It’s attachment to the clone files was concerning, but there wasn’t time to delve into that. The blueprint led to a number of other designs, and then pages upon pages of notes on nearly everything he could have wanted. They were still early notes, and it was clear that after the battle at the clone facility and her disappearance there were no more files to be seen, but even then, there were still mentions of the rift and alternate realities from long before any of them had ever considered that might be involved in her plans. It wasn't much. 

But it was enough to get started.

The files were almost finished downloading onto the datachip when he heard it; something heavy crashing to the floor. It echoed through the otherwise empty halls. Keith nearly leaped out of his skin.

For the minute or so that followed, there was silence behind the pounding of his own heart in his ears. Then, it appeared in the doorway, hunched and wounded but undeniably familiar.

_Not again._

The clone looked up at him. His bloodied hand was curled into a fist, pressed against his stomach where he seemed to be wounded. Pain was written across every inch of him, from the way his shoulders curled inward in defense to the tightness in his expression. “Keith,” he said, “Is that you?”

Keith pulled the data chip from the computer and stowed it into his belt again, making sure it was secure before he released the suction tech. Flipping around as he fell, he landed on his feet a safe distance from the clone and took a defensive stance. _It’s not Shiro,_ he had to remind himself. The clone’s hair was still a deep brown, his arm was still flesh. How he was still _alive_ , Keith couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But he brought back memories of the Shiro of Keith’s teen years; the Shiro who showed him kindness when no one else would, who gave him chance after chance, who taught him patience and warmth and love. He looked like the Shiro who had always seemed untouchable, unbreakable, who bounded toward the sky and the stars and couldn’t be brought down.

Until he was.

_It takes more than a glowing alien wound, a fall from the upper atmosphere, and crashing into a hard pan surface, at what I'm guessing is about 25 meters per second squared, to get rid of me._

But this wasn’t Shiro. This was the creature of some of his worst nightmares. 

“Where are we?” the clone said, looking around as though dazed.

Keith's hand settled on the hilt of his blade where it rested in its sheath. His last battle with one of the clones was always fresh on his mind, as much as he disliked to admit it, and while he had the benefit now of knowing that the real Shiro was safe on Earth, he still dreaded the thought of fighting anything that wore his face, that spoke in his voice, and that only knew Keith as the boy from the desert. 

“What are you doing?" Confusion fused with hurt as the clone's eyes followed Keith's hand. When he met Keith's gaze again, his own was a desperate plea. "It’s me. _Shiro_.”

Keith tightened his grip on the hilt. “You’re not Shiro.”

“Keith,” the clone said in a near whimper, taking a jolting step forward. His hand shifted and Keith saw blood, a lot of it, soaking the front of the black undersuit he wore. It shined under the purple light, and while Keith couldn't see the wound itself, to lose so much blood didn't exactly prompt a positive prognosis. It tore Keith’s resolve apart. Whatever guards he had set for himself crumbled. Memories of the battle he’d nearly lost with the clone who deceived them all, memories that still haunted him, couldn’t dissuade the urge to protect. He wasn't Shiro, but he thought he was, and if there was one consistency in Keith's life, it was that he would move mountains, shake planets from their orbits, cross the universe and delve into the unknown and sacrifice everything if it meant that Shiro would be safe. 

How frustrating, to realize after so much time without contact that the feelings hadn’t changed at all.

“It’s…” Cautious, he took a small, tentative step forward. “It’s gonna be okay.”

It was enough to realize his mistake.

There was a flash of something in the clone’s hand under the light, but he moved too quickly for Keith to see until it was inches from his face. The clone lunged, a shard of glass gripped tight enough in the palm of his hand to cut and draw blood. Keith ducked out of the way of the makeshift weapon with a shout, but couldn’t escape the force of the tackle and was thrown off his feet. An elbow smacked his jaw hard and knocked his mask clean off, leaving his face without protection.

They were a tangle of limbs as Keith struggled to free himself of the attack. The clone was relentless, pinning one of his arms over his head. Keith barely managed to catch his wrist before the glass could pierce his temple, and his arm shook from the effort to hold him off, the glass mere inches from his eye. The clone's eyes had changed, the pupils glowing an inhuman magenta with his possession. 

But his wounds were a weakness, and without his robotic arm, Keith had the advantage.

"You did this," the clone said, voice animalistic. His grip on the glass tightened, prompting droplets of blood to slip over his palm. It dripped onto Keith's exposed face, warm like tears. Unaware, his own eyes began to change as his panic triggered the Galra transformation. "You killed us all." 

 _It’s not Shiro,_ Keith repeated in his mind like a mantra. It was his only source of comfort as he flipped them with his legs and delivered a hard blow to the clone’s wounded stomach. It knocked the air out of him, and he released Keith’s hand, giving him the opportunity to escape. Scrambling to his feet, he scooped up his mask and ran from the control room, nearly colliding with the wall in his haste. He took off down the hall, looking over his shoulder once to see the clone only steps behind him. As the wall leading back to the porthole neared, Keith reactivated the suction tech and jumped as high as he could to put as much distance between himself and the clone as possible. Wasting no time, he began the climb back up, breaths sharp and shallow.

He made it not quite halfway when the glass shard shot by him, scraping the curve of his throat enough to tear through the fabric of his suit and shattering against the wall. The razor sharp pieces that burst apart would have shredded his face if not for the Blade mask, but instinct still prompted him to throw up his arm in defense. Keith spun over his shoulder to find his assailant trapped below, unable to make the climb out.

The clone slumped back against the wall and pressed a hand to his wound, his face twisted with a rage that seemed alien on Shiro’s face. But as he slid down to the floor, the glow to his eyes faded, and his expression shifted to one of confusion. Whatever possessed him had passed, and it left the copy of Shiro stranded underground with no apparent exit.

A copy of Shiro, with Shiro’s memories and feelings, watching helpless as Keith left him to die.

Despite himself, Keith looked up at the porthole and back at not-Shiro again, debating with himself the practicality of carrying him out on his back. He didn't have the level of first aid he would need, or the space to keep him comfortably in the cockpit, and there was a good chance that whatever had possessed him might come back try to kill him again, and there was  _no_ easy way to explain coming back to Daibazaal with a clone of his first love. 

It didn't matter. The clone broke him out of his own thoughts. "Go," he said, voice rough and weak. "If you get too close, it'll come back. You have to go." 

A younger version of himself would have argued, would have refused to leave him there, maybe even died with him. But people were depending on Keith. He wasn't just a boy from the desert anymore, with no family of friends or people to miss him. And Shiro - the real Shiro - was safe at home with his husband. 

He still couldn't seem to budge from where he clung to the wall. 

"Go, Keith," not-Shiro said again, "Get out of here.  _Go._ " 

With gritted teeth, he turned and resumed his climb and didn't look back. Reaching the top, he tumbled out of the porthole and gracelessly collapsed into the sand, gasping for breath as emotion threatened to seize him. He let his mask recede, hoping the fresh air might be easier to breathe, but his body shuddered with each labored breath. It had been years since he shed a tear; at some point, loss became too familiar of a fiend to induce that sort of response. He felt the pressure in his skull now, the tightness in his throat and chest, but no tears. He knew he had to stand, to get to his ship and get off this planet, but his limbs couldn’t seem to carry his own weight anymore.

“Gravity fluctuations,” he said under his breath as he struggled to stand, only managing to get on all fours.

It wasn’t the gravity. He pounded a fist into the sand, claws biting into his palm and teeth grinding as he fought his emotions.

Venomous laughter filled the air and Keith’s head shot upward. Before him stood the cloaked figure of one of Haggar's druids, arms extended and clawed fingers curled towards the sky. As he laughed, another clone crawled out of a cryopod near Keith. This one’s face was caked with dried blood and as he stood, Keith saw the white of bone jutting from one leg. The clone dragged it behind him, hobbling towards Keith with eyes glowing, completely oblivious of its own pain.

Nausea gripped him at the sight, but Keith pulled himself to his feet.

“I always wondered when you would show up here,” the druid said, taunting. “Don’t you appreciate our work? The clones are not human, and their deaths are different from humans. It’s quite simple to wake them up. But you would know all about that, wouldn’t you Black Paladin?”

It was a shot at Shiro - the _real_ Shiro - that carried with it implications Keith didn’t want to think about. He didn’t have the strength in him. “So you’ve been waiting around out here for the opportunity to torment me?”

“You make it so easy,” the druid said. The clone inched closer, the sound of his leg dragging making Keith shudder. “Your devotion to the Champion is your downfall.”

The clone lunged, and it was too easy to dodge out of the way. The way he fell, unable to carry himself on the leg, was horrible, and Keith couldn’t watch. However aware he was that this wasn’t the man he followed into the stars, it still hurt too much. Dreams were mere creations of the mind and they still haunted him; this was a nightmare come to life, a puppet show curated around his worst fears.

Like clockwork, another clone rose, and another, each with his own set of injuries that shouldn’t have allowed him to walk at all, each with the same magenta glow to their pupils. They circled him, zombie-like and intense.

“Please don’t make me hurt them,” Keith said, unsheathing his blade and letting it stretch into its full form.

“I am not making you do anything, boy,” the druid said, and dissolved into grotesque laughter as one of the clones made a dive for Keith’s weapon.

Keith pulled back in time, delivering a hard blow to the clone’s chest with the hilt and knocking him back a few steps. The other grabbed his arm while he was distracted, and Keith used his weight against him, knocking him off his feet and twisting his arm free. The one with the broken leg grabbed him from behind, locking an arm tight around Keith’s neck. In retaliation, he sank his fangs into the clone’s arm. The clone let go, and Keith cracked his jaw with an elbow.

Physically, the battle wasn’t challenging. They all had wounds that kept them from becoming real threats. But being forced to fight these creatures that looked like Shiro, knowing that they had no control over their actions, that they were in pain, that the druid could drop his hold on them at any moment and they would remember him -

It was agony.

At least in the first battle, he was fighting to save his Shiro, but he couldn’t save them all. He couldn't even save one. Fighting them now, he had to separate from himself, give into his Galra lineage and become something he would later try to scrub from his memory for the sake of his sanity.

Once free of the circle, he made a break for his ship. The druid wasn’t having it, and woke the clones between him and his escape. They leaned out of their pods, reaching for his legs, attempting to tackle him, but he dodged every effort. If he could just make it off the planet -

A pulse like electricity struck him on the side and knocked him flying with a scream. He tumbled and rolled over himself once, twice, three times before coming to a stop in a daze. When he looked up, the druid had teleported in front of his ship and taken Shiro’s form, twisted grin splitting his face. Unlike the others, his eyes glowed a bright yellow. Like a star, it was painful to look at. 

“Leaving so soon?” he said in Shiro’s voice. “But I’m not done playing yet.”

“No,” Keith said weakly. He could do no more than twitch helplessly on the ground as the druid’s quintessence blast stunned his system, the feeling coming back to him in pieces. The blade fell from his hand, fingers too stiff to keep a good grip. “Please, _no_.”

“What are you going to do to stop me?” the druid said, stepping toward him. Even his walk was taunting.

It took all of Keith’s strength to force himself onto his knees. The electricity was still pulsing through his veins, rendering his limbs stiff and inflexible. Before he could manage to stand, the druid reached him and with a swift punch to his temple knocked him onto his side. Groaning, Keith rolled onto his back and tried to see past the stars. The druid crouched beside him and closed a hand around Keith’s throat.

“You are going to die on this planet, Keith Kogane,” he said, looking utterly pleased with himself. “And when you’re gone, I’ll take your form and your ship and find your Shiro on Earth. The last thing you’ll ever see is this face, and the last thing he’ll ever see is yours.”

With one hand, Keith attempted to pry the druid’s hand away. With the other, he reached for his blade.

“It’s poetic in a way, don’t you think? And it’s all because you were too weak to kill him-”

Keith released the blade into its final form. It pierced through the druid’s abdomen, spurting black blood from the wound. It wasn't a kill shot, but the druid's astonishment bought him enough time to withdraw the blade, spraying ichor as it shrank back to the size of a dagger. Keith flipped it around in his hand, and the druid wasn't quick enough to catch his wrist before he plunged the blade deep into his chest. 

Like the first time he killed a druid, bolts of pent up quintessence shot from the wound. But he still wore Shiro’s face, so Keith closed his eyes and waited for it to pass. The image of his own luxite blade buried to the hilt in Shiro's chest would find enough ways to haunt him for the rest of his life; he didn't need to watch him turn to dust, too. He kept them closed even when the hand at his throat dissolved to ash and simply laid in the sand, unable to will himself to move.

If the clones came and killed him now, he would let them. He would welcome it.

“Keith.”

It was less a voice, more a breathless whisper. Keith turned his head and with reluctance opened his eyes. The clones had all dropped, and most were lying motionless in the sand, but the one closest to him was still clinging to life and reaching out for him.

It took everything Keith had to roll onto his hands and knees and crawl to the clone’s side. He’d read the files on the clones and knew that the druid was both right and wrong; the clones didn’t die like humans, but they still died, and this one was on his way out. With no one left on this planet to drag them back to a life of suffering, perhaps they would finally be able to rest.

“What happened?” the clone asked.

Keith shook his head. The emotions were gone; too much and too strong, he beat them back until he felt nothing but cold. “Nothing you could control.”

The clone searched his face. He tried to move closer, but stopped with a wince. The full extent of his wounds, Keith couldn’t see, but they were significant. The clone's skin was ghastly white. He  _looked_ dead - and Keith supposed he had been, before his arrival prompted the druid to resurrect them all. “It - it hurts.”

“I’ve got you,” Keith whispered. Touch as gentle as he could manage, he helped settle the clone’s head in his lap and wiped the blood from his face.

“Your hair is so long.” The clone reached up a hand and gently tugged the end of Keith’s braid with a weak smile, and Keith barely managed to return the expression as he took the hand and held on.

“Sleep, Shiro,” he said, “You’ll feel better.”

The way the clone looked at him, with so much trust and faith and what Keith could have believed was _love_ , made him desperately want to mend his wounds and bring him back to Daibazaal and promise to always keep him safe. But his ship only had space for one, and the clone was already too far gone to be saved. They all were.

“Sleep,” Keith said again, kissing the clone’s blood-crusted knuckles. His affection could do no harm here, and with his hands gloved, not-Shiro at least deserved the skin-to-skin contact. It occurred to Keith as he held the hand against his cheek that this clone had likely never felt a kind human touch. None of them had. He closed his eyes and prayed to the universe to let it last just a few moments longer, so that he might know something other than pain in his brief life. 

“Stay with me,” the clone said, “Until the end. Please.”

“I will.” And he stayed true to the promise, holding tight to the clone’s hand until the other’s grip went slack. Keith took the other hand and folded them both over the clone’s chest, and gently lowered him down to the sand. Death was ugly, and he’d seen more of it in his life than he cared to admit. For a moment Keith wondered if he should bury him, but the sand was ever shifting, and if he buried the one he would be compelled to bury them all. With a clenched fist, he turned back to his ship and left them at the planet’s mercy. He made a mental note not to leave them forever, to come back someday with a bigger ship and a bigger crew and bring them somewhere to be properly buried, because they deserved a better end than this and leaving them would be high on the list of things he’d done that he would always hate himself for.

But now wasn’t the time, and he left the planet with the weight of hundreds of innocent lives pressing down on his heart.

He barely made it past the upper atmosphere when his radar picked up on multiple approaching ships.

“Shit,” he said, picking up speed. The ships came into view; they were small and out-of-date, but without his cloaking Keith wasn’t much better off. He didn't bother hoping they were other travelers; only one group still used outdated Galra tech. His attempts to swerve out of range were in vain. They weren’t about to let him go that easily, and within moments he was under fire. "You gotta be kidding me." 

_Typical._

Keith opened a frequency to all Blade ships and bases, doing his best to avoid the attacks and lose his assailants. “Calling all Blades, this is Commander Kogane requesting immediate assistance. Please respond.”

He was met with static.

“I’m under heavy fire, does anyone copy?” Keith said. He tried adjusting the frequency, but it was too many things at once - piloting with one hand, calling for help, avoiding the battle and the ships, and the shrapnel left behind from other battles and other ships. “This is Commander Keith Kogane requesting immediate backup. I repeat, requesting immediate backup -”

A voice in his mind he didn’t immediately recognize as Allura’s shouted, " _Eject now!"_

The rest happened within seconds. Making sure his mask was in place, Keith covered the spot on his neck where his suit was torn with one hand and slammed the eject button with the other. Then, as he was thrown into the vacuum of space, there was a deafening crack and the ship burst apart, sending glass and metal shards in every direction. Had Keith waited even half a second longer, he would have been caught in the explosion and killed immediately.

He was still too close. A large piece of shrapnel shot out after him and hit him square over the head.

The last thing he saw was the endless expanse of stars consumed by fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next: keith's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day gets worse. time is the paladins' worst enemy.


	3. run

**Chapter 3**

_Rare is this love, keep it covered_  
_I need you to run to me, run to me lover_  
_Run until you feel your lungs bleeding._

"Run" - Hozier

* * *

Worry was the language of mothers, and Krolia had been fluent since before Keith was born.  
  
When they learned of her pregnancy, she worried that their child might look like her and be unable to experience life on this planet. Without neighbors, Krolia was able to step outside and enjoy fresh air as she pleased. It was a simple life, but it was enough for her. A child needed to explore and play. She imagined their son or daughter running off and being discovered in the town, or by the Garrison. Her sleep was plagued with visions of her half-Galra infant carried off by men in hazmat suits, screaming for its mother. As fast as she ran, she could never catch up.  
  
As her belly grew, she worried about the baby’s size. Its father insisted that human babies were small, and that their baby was growing just fine. He didn’t know that; Krolia was unable to visit human doctors, so they didn't know anything. There was no certainty in any of it. She often fell into a cycle of stress, fueled by her tendency towards realism. He was the optimist of their relationship, soothing her with grand ideas of raising a child of the stars together.    
  
Even when he was born, Krolia thought Keith was so, so small. It was a difficult birth - she’d heard most hybrid births were - but when she held her son, small enough that his head and shoulders fit in the palm of her hand, he was beautifully human, soft and perfect and breakable. When he grasped her finger with all the strength he possessed in his little hand, the urge to protect her newborn human son at all costs was overwhelming. No harm would ever come to him. He was her little star, and she would always keep him safe.  
  
Inevitably, it was why she left. She kissed her sleeping child goodbye, heart aching for all of the moments she would miss; his first laugh, his first words, his first steps. She would miss every trip and fall, every cut and bruise. His father would send him off to school, and soon enough he would become a wonderful little person far from the grasps of Zarkon's empire. He would learn and grow and change his world and she would miss it all.  
  
Finding him again as a fellow Blade was a blessing and a curse. It brought them back together, it gave her time to discover who this person had become, and she was endlessly proud of him. But it meant her efforts to keep him out of this war and safe on Earth had been in vain. It meant protecting him would be near impossible.  
  
A paladin of Voltron didn't need her protection, but that didn't stop her from worrying. Keith was capable and strong and independent, but he was still her only son, and every separation carried with it a risk of permanency that she wouldn't be able to bear.  
  
When the war was over, and the paladins returned incomplete, she at least could pull her child into a private space and gather him into her arms and be assured that his heart, though heavy, was still beating. Krolia couldn’t look Coran in the eye for near a movement when she caught herself drowning in relief that it wasn’t Keith who hadn’t returned. Thank the stars it wasn’t him.  
  
Proud as she was of him, one of the saviors of the universe, she longed to see him put it behind him. When Shiro left the Atlas, she wondered if that would be the push he needed to take his own rest. Its effects were quite the opposite. It was naive of her to think he would ever be able to settle and be satisfied. Krolia’s worries were endless, it seemed. On the good days, he smiled and laughed with his coworkers, he played with the refugee children, he listened to the elders share their stories. He was gracious, and patient, and kind.  
  
On the bad days, her enhanced Galra sense of smell could pick up the day old smoke on him. He hid behind shaded lenses and his smiles were an act. On the worst day, the space wolf teleported her to Keith’s home from her apartment in the city and she found him on the floor of his bedroom, forehead bruised from hitting his head to quiet voices only he could hear.  
  
Many things in Keith’s life frightened her, but nothing more so than the terrors that lived within him.  
  
She found Dr. Sylvan for him. She and Kolivan staged something of an intervention, but by that point it had gotten so bad he wasn't in any need of further convincing. And he seemed to be doing better. There were still sleepless nights, but given everything he had seen and done, that was to be expected. Still, she worried, and she knew that he became impatient with her for it.  
  
But she was his mother.  
  
The morning he left for his personal mission, whatever it was meant to be, every one of her maternal instincts told her not to let him go. He was withholding information, and the situation with the Knights was worsening by the day. A sense of dread gripped her as the ship took off and disappeared among the clouds, and stayed with her through every meeting and business call and hour spent on paperwork.  
  
She was in the middle of reading the final report on the Xasiean Ambush, as the news outlets had taken to calling it, when it happened. Kolivan was peering over her shoulder, as he often did when reports of this kind came in. It was more time efficient to read them together, so he said.  
  
Kreil entered the office without knocking. “Apologies for the intrusion,” he said, voice edged with panic, “You’re both needed in the control room. It’s urgent.”  
  
“What’s happened?” Kolivan asked, standing tall. “Has there been another attack?”  
  
“It’s Commander Kogane,” Kreil said.  
  
A cold sweat broke across the back of Krolia’s neck. She was out of her chair in seconds, long strides carrying her quickly through the halls with Kolivan at her side. Kolivan wasn't the man he'd once been; Krolia wasn't sure if it was the war, or his time in captivity, or something else that brought about the change in him. He was softer than he used to be; especially after Keith's mental break, he took care to offer praise when warranted, and be something of a mentor to him when needed. Once, he admitted to Krolia that during Keith's time with the Blades, he felt compelled to keep him as safe as he could. The implication was that he knew Keith was Krolia's, and that he wanted to help them reconnect.  
  
Krolia suspected there was more to it than that when he asked to stay with her in the hospital room as Keith slept, and when he couldn't contain his pride as Keith spoke to the crowd at the launch of the Atlas, and every time Kolivan's edges softened when it came to Keith.  
  
As they neared the control room, the passing gazes lingered on them. They walked by a pair of young Blades, and Krolia heard one whisper to the other, and the other’s horrified gasp, and felt both their stares on her back.  
  
The door slid open and they stepped into the control room. Every pair of eyes in the room immediately turned to them. Some covered their mouths, others gaped in stunned silence. When none would explain themselves, Krolia strode to the nearest screen.  
  
At first it didn’t quite register, though some part of her had already known. It had known as they were stared down in the halls, it had known when Kreil entered the office, it had known when Keith’s ship was no longer within her sight. At the center of the screen was a pulsing red symbol. The symbol represented a Blade ship, the pulse was a code every agent knew as the automatic SOS transmission sent when a ship’s cockpit had sustained damage.  
  
Red was Keith.  
  
“Ma’am,” the communications officer beside her said, mournful. “We tracked the ship’s last known location.”  
  
The coordinates that appeared beside the symbol were deep within the Neutral Zone - no, not just in the Neutral Zone, but in a quadrant blocked off as occupied by the Knights, which meant any hope that this was an accident or a malfunction slipped away.  
  
“No,” Krolia whispered.  
  
Kolivan set a hand on her shoulder. As a Blade, Kolivan knew that every member of their organization was aware of the risks of what they were doing, and that sometimes those risks came to fruition in the most tragic ways.  
  
As someone who loved Keith, he tossed all reason aside. “Do we have a team anywhere in the area to conduct a search?”  
  
“None that have responded to any transmissions. I attempted to contact Commander Acxa, but her team is on mission on the other side of the galaxy.”  
  
“Is it safe to send a search party to that quadrant?”  
  
“With respect, sir, Commander Kogane is the best pilot we have. If he couldn’t make it out of there-”  
  
“What are the possible scenarios? Have you run it through the AI?”  
  
“Running it now.”  
  
Krolia was aware of them speaking around her, but leaned over the monitor, she was frozen in place. Jaw tight, hands clenched into fists, she was already running scenarios in her head, and none of them presented much of an opportunity for escape, or even a rescue if by some miracle he survived. A ship destroyed in terrorist-occupied deep space was a doomed situation all around.  
  
“He was in uniform, wasn’t he?” Kolivan said, “Can’t you track his location?”  
  
“We haven’t been able to find his signal. It - it could be interference, sir, but…”  
  
In her mind’s eye, Krolia could see Keith as an infant in his father’s arms in their bedroom. He was only a few days old, meaning his notions of when to be awake were vastly different from their own. Krolia laid back, watching as he sang and rocked Keith, his accent slipping through the lyrics and his deep voice lulling even Krolia to sleep.  
  
“ _Won’t you run, come see St. Judy’s Comet roll across the skies_  
_And leave a spray of diamonds in its wake?_  
_I long to see St. Judy’s Comet sparkle in your eyes when you awake_.”  
  
The baby cooed, little hands reaching without aim. His father smiled, shifting him in his arms and sitting back against the pillows beside Krolia. She crawled closer, resting her head on his shoulder to watch as Keith drifted back into sleep.  
  
“ _Little boy, little boy, won’t you close your weary eyes?_  
_Ain’t nothing flashing but the fireflies_. ”  
  
“There must be something we can do,” Kolivan said, struggling to come to terms with the grief that was dragging Krolia into an abyss.  
  
Krolia’s knees gave out on her, and she crumpled into herself. Distantly, she heard Kolivan call her name, and felt hands on her shoulders, but all of it was overcome by an anguish she had hoped she would never feel.  
  
She had lost everything. Everything.

* * *

Keith knew he was dreaming because the sky was on fire, and he was with Shiro.  
  
They were riding their hoverbikes, taking their usual path through the desert and laughing like children. They had already made the cliff jump and were approaching their stopping point in time to watch the sunset. Keith reached the end first and let out a victorious whoop! He stepped off his bike and moved to smack Shiro’s shoulder, swiping the hair that had fallen from its tie out of his face.  
  
“So what’s our record now, old timer?” he said, teasing lilt to his voice.  
  
“I can’t recall,” Shiro said, grinning to himself.  
  
“Oh, is that so? Funny, you always seem to recall when you’re ahead.”  
  
“Hmm, funny indeed.”  
  
Keith snorted and jabbed him with his elbow. They leaned against Shiro’s hoverbike, standing close. Shiro’s finger was decorated with a wedding band; his first anniversary had been the week before, and Keith happened to be on-planet for a progress update on Earth’s own refugee situation.  
  
It turned out the home planet of the defenders of the universe was a bit of a hotspot when it came to interplanetary immigration. He didn’t mind; it gave him an excuse to be on Earth, with his friends.  
  
“I miss this so much, sometimes,” Shiro said, angling his head towards Keith. “It’s been weird not seeing you all the time. Sometimes I stop by the Garrison and see a kid with a mullet and have to do a double-take.”  
  
Keith's eyes softened, touched by the confession. “Why don’t you come to Daibazaal sometime? Get off-planet for a little while. I’ve got a spare bedroom. I mean, it’s got all my boxes and shit still in it, but I can move those over.”  
  
Shiro lifted a brow. “Haven’t unpacked yet, huh?”  
  
“It’s only been a couple weeks, and I work all the time. Give me a break.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You could help me unpack when you visit.”  
  
Shiro sighed. “I don’t know, Keith.”  
  
Keith frowned. “We could always meet up on another planet. One closer. I know the trip to Daibazaal is pretty long.”  
  
“Curtis would want to come,” Shiro said.  
  
Confused, Keith blinked. “Oh, well - you know, he’s not not invited. The bed in the spare room is big enough for two. The invitation is extended to you both.”  
  
Shiro shook his head. “I like spending time just the two of us, y’know? It always seems like he feels left out when he’s around us, and I just… I don’t need to feel guilty for spending time with my best friend.”  
  
Keith turned to face Shiro fully, concern etched into every feature. “Is everything okay with you two?”  
  
The question startled Shiro. “Why wouldn’t it be?”  
  
“I dunno.” Keith, who had never been in a serious romantic relationship in his life, certainly wasn’t one to pick out others’ problems. Still, spending so many years loving Shiro, he had never not wanted him around. Since the end of the war, they'd been apart more often than they'd been together. The worst part about visiting Earth was knowing he would have to leave. “I’ve just never heard you talk like that about him, I guess.”  
  
“Sometimes you just need to take some time for yourself. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong,” Shiro said, smiling and clapping Keith’s shoulder. He turned around, preparing to climb onto the hoverbike. “C’mon, it’s getting late.”  
  
“Hey, wait,” Keith said. Shiro paused. “There’s something I have to tell you first. Privately.”  
  
It was Shiro’s turn to be the concerned best friend. “Is something wrong?”  
  
Keith fidgeted with his fingerless gloves and worried at his bottom lip. “I… I’m back in therapy, Shiro.”  
  
Whatever Shiro’s immediate reaction was, he stifled it with a long breath, keeping himself measured and calm for Keith’s sake. “Did something happen?”  
  
“I had an episode. Mom and Kolivan think I’m stressed.” Keith hated how vulnerable he sounded admitting this all in the open, but with his fame on Daibazaal he hadn’t been able to speak with anyone about it in public or risk being overheard. The last thing he needed was the tabloids sharing every intimate detail of his mental instability with the universe.  
  
“And what do you think?”  
  
“I hear voices,” Keith said, looking away. “They won’t let me sleep.”  
  
Shiro settled a hand on Keith’s shoulder in support. “How long has this been going on?”  
  
Keith shrugged. “I think it started after the Lions left, but it feels like it’s been so long, now.”  
  
“A year is a long time to be dealing with that yourself. Have you had any sessions yet? Does your therapist have any ideas on what’s going on?”  
  
“Yeah, I’ve seen him a few times already.” Keith rubbed the back of his neck, lips pursed. He chose his words with care. “He’s been consulting with human psychiatrists, too, just to try and get all the bases covered. They don’t think it’s schizophrenia. He says that sometimes combat veterans with PTSD experience some of the symptoms of psychosis, which includes auditory hallucinations, so that’s what we’re going with for now.”  
  
“Does anyone else know?”  
  
Keith shook his head. “Just Dr. Sylvan, Mom, Kolivan, and you. I’m gonna tell the paladins at some point, it’s just hard to get everyone alone, y’know? And I don’t want this getting out. You know how people are. They’ll be calling for my resignation.”  
  
“Would resigning be such a bad thing?” Shiro asked. The first of the former paladins to leave the world of space travel behind, Keith should've known Shiro would be an advocate for his resignation. “I mean, you work harder than anyone I’ve ever met, Keith. It’s admirable. But sometimes you need to do what’s best for you and take your health into consideration.”  
  
“That might have a little more weight coming from someone who didn’t ignore everyone telling him not to go into space with a degenerative disease, y’know.”  
  
“I can go grab Curt.”  
  
Keith laughed and gave Shiro a gentle shove. “I’m not gonna resign. I love my job. It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it. I feel like I’m making a difference, like I’m really helping people out there. And I’m pretty sure giving it up would just make things worse. I can’t just quit, Shiro.”  
  
Something unidentifiable crossed Shiro’s face, and he retracted his hand. “There’s nothing wrong with taking a break when you need to, Keith.”  
  
The implied insult hadn't even crossed Keith's mind. It was only when Shiro’s tone turned distant that he realized what he'd said. “Shiro, I didn’t mean - you did the best thing for you, I’m just saying-”  
  
“I know what you’re saying, Keith.” Shiro offered a smile, a small reassurance when the mood had changed so completely, so quickly. “I’m proud of you for doing this, by the way. It took me too long to admit I needed help. I think this’ll be really good for you.”  
  
“Yeah.” Keith’s eyes were downcast. The dream began to slip away, the flames in the sky dying with the coming twilight. “I think so, too.”  
  
Keith woke aboard a ship he didn’t recognize, strapped to a table by the wrist and ankles. A sharp pain rang in his skull, and he groaned as he came back to himself, blinking away the sleep haze to assess his surroundings. His mask was gone, as was his blade. Aside from him, the room was vacant. Small lights high on the walls emanated a faint purple glow, a signature of old Galra ships. Around him were screens showing his vitals and a cart of what may have been medical equipment but looked akin to torture devices, with syringes of raw quintessence scattered among scalpels and other items he didn't recognize.  
  
Testing the bonds on his wrists and ankles, they wouldn’t budge. As he glanced down at himself, he felt a healing patch stretch the skin along his throat, and another across his forehead, just above the brow. The front of his uniform top had been tugged over the abdomen, and he could see a larger patch taped to his side. The memory of the jolting sensation of the druid’s attack left him shuddering; in his panic, he hadn’t even realized he’d been wounded.  
  
The door slid open, and he closed his eyes and let himself go limp.  
  
He heard footsteps moving around the cot, and the sound of light taps on the screen as someone checked his vitals. Gentle hands peeled the healing patches from each of his wounds, saving the worst at his side for last. “He should wake up any time now. The head and neck wounds seem to be fully healed, but the one on his torso doesn’t seem to be making any improvements.”  
  
“Is he going to live?” The second voice was much deeper, uncaring.  
  
“Well, it’s difficult to say. The wound right now appears to be limited to the surface, but if it’s what I think it is, it’ll eat deeper into the flesh. And if it’s what I think it is, the level of quintessence that’ll get into his bloodstream could be toxic. It won’t kill him quickly, but if nothing is done to stop it spreading, he won't last the week.”  
  
“We only need him long enough to infiltrate the Coalition. Don’t waste any further resources on him.”  
  
“But - sir -”  
  
“Get him into a cell before he wakes up. This one will be trouble.” Footsteps moved away, and the door slid open and closed with a whir.  
  
Keith heard a soft beep, the sound of a communicator opening a frequency. “I need two guards to the medbay for a prisoner escort.”  
  
“Copy that,” a voice said back, crackling over the line.  
  
Then, Keith felt hands removing the bonds at his ankles, and then his wrists. With both arms free, Keith's eyes snapped open, and his hand shot toward the apparent doctor. The young Galra man shouted in surprise and attempted to dodge the attack, but Keith managed to get a hold of the collar of his medical jacket and slammed his head down against the cart. Letting go, the doctor collapsed to the ground, unconscious.  
  
Keith sat up, scanning the room for anything he could use as a weapon. He settled on a scalpel on the cart, and snatched it as he slipped off the cot. The guards would arrive any moment to bring him to a cell; he moved to stand beside the door and waited.  
  
The door slid open, and in stepped two guards as expected. They paused upon seeing the doctor sprawled on the floor, and before either could make a move, Keith knocked the one closest to him out with one punch to the jaw. He collapsed, and Keith grabbed the other by the front of his uniform, dragging him forward onto the tips of his toes. He lost his balance, held up only by Keith’s grip, and Keith held the scalpel to his throat so he wouldn’t dare attempt to move.  
  
“My blade,” Keith said, “Where is it?”  
  
“I don’t - I don’t know, they would’ve taken it when they brought you onto the ship,” the guard said, frantic. “It could be anywhere.”  
  
Keith pursed his lips and took a breath. He hated to leave it behind, but survival was more important. “Which way to the escape pods?”  
  
The guard glanced to the side with a gulp.  
  
Keith drove the scalpel further in, drawing blood. “Which. Way.”  
  
“Down the hall to the right,” the guard said quickly, “The hangar is at the end of the corridor. Huge door. Can’t miss it.”  
  
Keith fixed the guard in a glare as he pulled the scalpel back. Letting go, the guard stumbled forward, and Keith struck him with an elbow to the head. The force of it knocked him against the wall, and he collapsed into a heap beside his comrade. With both guards unconscious, he crouched over them and removed their blades, slipping one into the sheath at the back of his belt and keeping the other at the ready.  
  
With quick and quiet steps, he moved into the hall, keeping an eye out for guards. The ship seemed to be an old Galra battle cruiser, most likely salvaged by the Knights before the Blades or the Coalition could get their hands on it. The lights flickered as Keith moved, and he made it to the hangar without issue, ducking down side halls and behind doors whenever a guard passed.  
  
Getting to a pod would be another story.  
  
A team of six Knights was gathered in the hangar, in full uniform with their stolen blades hanging at their hips. They were talking amongst themselves, heads down and facing the other direction. Keith hid himself behind a control panel in the corner of the room, scrambling for a plan. It would take only seconds to run to the nearest pod, but with the Knights present he risked being seen.  
  
In his peripheral vision, he noticed the screen above the panel blinking. Keith only intended to give it a brief glance, but the designs on screen pulled his attention. It was a blueprint of a type of satellite, one Keith hadn't seen before. Keeping an eye on the Knights, Keith tapped the design, and a series of notes appeared alongside it, with lines pointing out the functions of individual parts. One satellite could knock out long-range transmissions, cloaking, and wormhole tech on any ship in its range. The technological developments involved seemed to advanced for what Keith had thought the Knights were capable of.  
  
A thought crossed his mind, and his hand flew to the pouch on his utility belt where he'd stored his data chip. It hadn't been taken off him, and he breathed a sigh of relief, taking it out and inserting it into the panel. The files were mid-download when alarms blared, a red light flashing throughout the hangar.  
  
A voice Keith recognized as the cruiser's doctor sounded over the speakers, echoing in the vast space of the hangar. “Prisoner escape!” he said, “Prisoner escape!”  
  
The Knights burst into action, half of them running to the doors across the hangar and the others moving directly towards where Keith had entered, and where he was now hiding. Cursing under his breath, Keith ducked back behind the control panel and out of sight, holding the blade in preparation for the inevitable incoming battle. He was too visible from the side. If he didn't move now, they would see him as they walked by and he would be trapped in a corner. Keith peered around the corner, timing out his moment to strike. As the three Knights neared, the others exited the hangar through the back, giving Keith his opportunity.  
  
He lunged.  
  
The nearest Knight saw him coming and braced with eyes wide, but wasn't quick enough to defend himself. Keith rammed into him with the full force of his body, knocking him down. The next pulled out a blade, but with Keith's weapon already in hand he easily parried the attack. A roundhouse kick to the jaw sent the Knight stumbling backward as the next ran forward, blade held high. No longer having the advantage of surprise, Keith pulled out his second blade and met him with equal ferocity, and the fight began.  
  
These Knights were nothing like those they faced on Xasiea. These Knights knew how to use the weapons they wielded, and they fell into a chaotic rhythm of clashing and twirling blades. Even the one Keith knocked down scrambled back to his feet and held his own in the battle. Keith's heart pounded in his ears as he fought, increasingly aware of his shortening window of opportunity to escape. With a swipe of his blade across the back of one of the Knights' hand, the weapon clattered to the ground. Keith landed a hard kick to the Knight’s chest and he fell backwards out of the fight, leaving him against two.  
  
They were more skilled than those on Xasiea, but Keith was still the superior fighter, and they struggled to keep their footing against him. One by one he disarmed them, until they had no choice but to lift their hands in surrender as he held the points of his blades to their throats.  
  
In retrospect, he thought, he should have knocked them out and made his escape. Instead, he made the mistake of trusting the sense of honor that was commonplace among the Galra and let his guard down, lowering the blades. He shouldn't have been surprised when the Knight farthest from him spun and ran for the exit, shouting, “He’s in here! The prisoner is in the hangar!”  
  
“Damn it,” Keith said, twirling the blades in his hands so the points were down. Before the other two could make a move, he lunged into one, knocking him into the other so they both fell, and ran for the closest pod. Climbing in, he closed the hatch as a team of Knights entered. With a hand on the keypad, the engine whirred to life and he rose into the air.  
  
And he hesitated.  
  
Standing at the overhang was a Galra man dressed in a senior Blade uniform matching Keith's. In his hand was a glowing dagger with the Marmoran symbol.  
  
It was Keith’s blade.  
  
The man made no attempt to stop him. Keith was almost tempted to take his blade back, but with more of his captors arriving in the hangar, he would only have so much time before they attempted to chase after him. Escape had to be the first priority. He could always get a new blade.  
  
Gritting his teeth, he spun the pod around and began to shoot at the closed hangar door.  
  
On the ground, the Knights turned and ran from the room in terror. With a look over his shoulder, Keith saw that the thief had retreated as well. It only took a few more shots to punch a large enough hole into the hangar door for him to escape through, and he burst into open space.  
  
But of course, nothing could ever be that easy.  
  
The pod’s sensors picked up the cruiser’s cannons taking aim. Keith prepared for evasive maneuvers until he could get out of their range, but the cannons disappeared again as quickly as they’d latched onto his signal. In a moment of confusion, Keith wondered if they’d decided not to pursue him. Then one of his thrusters began to fail.  
  
“No,” he said as other essential parts shut down. It was a trap - somehow, the cruiser was able to manually control the pod's instruments. They couldn’t steer him back, but they could make sure he wouldn’t get far. Everything about the Knights, Keith realized, was a trick. They sent inexperienced fighters to Xasiea with outdated technology and ships to make the Coalition believe they were weak, non-threatening, while they had real warriors lying in wait and scientists developing devastating upgrades that the Coalition would never see coming. It was a hustle. “No, no, no! Come on!”  
  
His screen flashed, and the senior Knight. “Commander Kogane,” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am General Sek of the Knights of Daibazaal. You appear to find yourself in a bit of a predicament. Please, allow us to invite you back on board.”  
  
“Not gonna happen,” Keith said. Ahead of him was a planet in the shape of a diamond, with rings of ice and debris trapped in its orbit. With one thruster still functioning, Keith kept the pod on course. “But I’ll take my knife back.”  
  
Sek laughed darkly. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I’m sure you’re aware that your wounds are lethal, Commander. If you do not return voluntarily, you will die.”  
  
“And I’m supposed to believe you’ll heal me out of the goodness of your heart?” Keith said, “What do you want? What is your organization trying to accomplish?”  
  
Sek ignored him. “So you have chosen death. Pity. It is always a shame to see such a talented warrior fall, but victory or death has always been the Galra way. Shall I send your love to your mother on Daibazaal?”  
  
Crimson bled into the edges of Keith’s vision. “You stay the fuck away from my family-”  
  
The pod shuddered and groaned as it broke into the planet’s atmosphere, and the grinning image of Sek disappeared from his screen.  
  
Every so often, Iverson invited Keith to give talks to cocky young pilots-in-training at the Garrison, the kind of students who were skilled but smug about it, who skipped drills thinking they were too good for them and wanted to perform maneuvers way above their expertise for the sake of doing it. They reminded Iverson of Keith at that age, minus a mentor who understood them and could keep them in line.  
  
Among the students he was considered something of a hero, the same way Shiro had been for his own class. Many of them asked him for selfies and autographs, and all of them thought they were the next best pilot in the Garrison, the next Keith Kogane, which meant they believed they were untouchable, that nothing could ever go wrong as long as they were in the pilot's chair. Each time, he would ask them to guess the number of times he'd crashed, either a ship or one of the Voltron lions. Most kids knew about one or two, depending on what version of history they'd been told, but they were always shocked to find the real number much higher than they'd imagined for a pilot as famously skilled as Keith.  
  
"There's something my old mentor used to tell me: patience yields focus," he would say, "It's the best advice I ever got. It saved my life countless times and still saves me to this day. Sometimes, crashing is unavoidable, even for the best pilots. When you're flying through a battle with a dozen enemy fighters on your tail, eventually you're gonna get hit. Sometimes you don't see your enemies coming. Sometimes your ship's engines fail, or you lose a wing. It happens to the best of us, it can happen at any time, and when it does you've got to depend on your skills and a bit of luck to walk away, because when you're up there that's all you have. And the kind of skills you need to survive something like that aren't the kind that come naturally. You gotta work at it, you gotta focus, you gotta be patient.  
  
"Which does not mean I'm telling you to go crash a ship to prove you're the best pilot in your class. Seriously, don't do that." The students would laugh. "But if you cannot manage a ship that's going down, or you can't manage your own fear when your ship _is_ going down, people are going to die. _You_ are going to die. And we don't want that to happen to you, so you've got to be prepared. You need to develop those skills and quit dicking around. You wanna be the best pilot the Garrison has ever seen? Learn how to survive the no-win scenario."  
  
Keith couldn't count on both hands the number of crash landings he'd managed to walk away from throughout the war, but he had to come to terms with the facts; he was falling from the upper atmosphere in a one-person escape pod, one thruster down. Without a mask and oxygen, he couldn't ditch. The best he could hope for was a relatively smooth impact that wouldn't completely destroy the pod, but the odds of walking away unharmed were slim to none, no matter how skilled of a pilot he was. This was a no-win scenario.  
  
For a fleeting moment, death felt closer than it had in years. In his mind he saw the people he loved most; his mother kissing his forehead when he woke in the hospital after the Battle for Earth, his father singing him to sleep as a child, the space wolf teleporting into his arms and making him fall. He saw the paladins throwing space spores at one another like snowballs and Allura accepting his Galra lineage with an embrace that meant the world to him.  
  
And he saw Shiro. There were too many moments with Shiro to see only one. He saw the look of pride when Keith was selected as the top fighter pilot in his class, and the hug before the Kerberos mission that lasted so long Sam had to tap Shiro's shoulder and pull him away, and the way he looked at Keith as his eyes opened for the first time in the little shack in the desert Keith called home. He saw hoverbike races and trips to the burger joint in town and long nights distracting each other from nightmares in the Castle of Lions.  
  
Keith kept the pod as steady as he could as it glided downward, but his luck ran out on Balara. The wind was harsh, blowing snow and ice in every direction and reducing visibility to zero percent. Forced to watch the radar, Keith only barely managed to avoid the peek of a mountain he wasn't able to see through the blizzard. The sudden shift sent the pod off course, and the impact was jolting. Snow erupted around him as he slid to the ground, skidding over ice. The metal shell of the pod warped with the crash, and Keith was only held in his seat by the straps around his body. The cockpit caved in on itself, and he let out a scream as the dashboard crumpled inward and crushed his right leg against the seat. When at last the pod stopped, Keith could only sit and catch his breath. The button to release the straps was jammed, so he pulled out one of the blades and cut his way free.  
  
The leg was another problem. He wasn’t pinned completely - his leg was still in one piece, so in the grand scheme of things he couldn’t be that upset about his predicament. It didn't feel broken either, but the dashboard was crushing just below the knee, and walking would be a struggle. Propping his arm against the metal, he shoved it back with all of his strength and attempted to slip his leg free. It didn’t come without scraping painfully, but once freed he fell back against the side of the pod and heaved a sigh of relief.  
  
The feeling didn’t last. From beneath the wrecked nose of the pod, Keith could see black smoke rising in sharp contrast with the white backdrop of the icy planet.  
  
The keypad to open the hatch wasn’t functioning, because of course it wouldn't, forcing Keith to ram himself against the side of the pod over and over. He could feel the metal begin to budge as the smoke plumes grew thicker. When finally it gave way, Keith stumbled out into the frozen wasteland moments before the engines finally blew from the pressure, shooting flames that were quick to consume the entire pod.  
  
Keith laid in the snow for longer than he would’ve liked to admit. At least by the fire it was warm.  
  
He regretted standing almost immediately, as a sharp frozen wind cut through every inch of him. His uniform wasn't designed for this type of climate. Hugging his arms around himself, he stared around the tundra for any sign of an escape from the brutal cold. It wasn’t a planet he recognized - he vaguely remembered discussing the abandonment of one ice planet in the Neutral Zone due to the severity of the shift in its climate from “unpleasant but habitable” to “you will freeze to death in minutes.”  
  
That would be his luck - to find what he needed to set out on a mission to bring Allura back, only to be attacked by essentially zombified clones of the man he loved, captured by space terrorists, and stranded on a tundra in thin and torn clothes.  
  
Keith tugged the hood of his suit over his head and held it to block the wind from his face, closing his eyes and seeking out any energy source that might be a base, an abandoned town, anything he could use for shelter.  
  
When he opened his eyes again -  
  
“Shiro?”  
  
The man stood before him in regular clothes, not fit for winter. It was Shiro, without a doubt. His hair was white and his arm was metal; an upgrade from the floating piece he had through the end of the war, this one was attached to his body. He seemed just as bewildered to be there as Keith was to see him.  
  
“Keith?” he said. His voice sounded far away. “Keith,” he said again, and took a step closer, but as he did his body faded, until Keith could no longer see him.  
  
A hallucination, Keith decided, returning his focus to his search. He could feel an energy pulling him forward, away from the crash site and towards the mountains that had nearly gotten him killed. Though he couldn't imagine they were that far, the snow in the air was so thick he couldn't see even the outline. He dreaded leaving the bubble of heat the fire created. If he was already shaking from the cold this close to an inferno, it could only be worse the farther he went.  
  
The energy was insistent. Reluctant, Keith tried putting weight on his bad leg. Adrenaline masked the pain, but he stumbled with a gasp, looking down to see the snow stained red. But he couldn't afford not to move, so he ran. It was a limping, uneven run, and in some places he was up to his knees in snow, leaving a crimson trail in his path. The farther from the crash site he got, the clearer it became that wherever he was going, he needed to get there fast.  
  
Within minutes the cold became agonizing. The harsh wind pulled tears from his eyes and froze them to his lashes. His legs were weakening as his body diverted energy to keeping his core temperature up, and his hand could no longer grasp his hood to keep it over his face, the muscles in his fingers failing.  
  
When the mountain finally came into view, Keith could see a metal slab that could have been some kind of door along its side. It would take another few minutes at least to get there, and Keith could feel his body shutting down by the second. His thoughts were becoming jumbled, his vision wobbled, and more than once he stumbled over his own feet and collapsed into the snow, only to drag himself back upright and keep going.  
  
He was able to focus long enough to see that the metal slab was, in fact, a large door, big enough to allow small ships through. It was also at the top of a steep incline, and as he attempted the climb his bad leg finally gave out on him. He crawled on all fours, struggling to drag himself upward through his increasing weakness.  
  
“ _Keith_ ,” a voice came to him. It was Allura’s. “ _You have to keep going. Your heart is slowing down. You are going to die if you don’t keep going._ ”  
  
He pulled himself to the top and, with the door within sight, couldn't will himself to his feet. His hand reached out hopelessly, fingers unfeeling.  
  
“ _Keith!_ ” Allura’s voice was stronger now, urgent. “ _You can do this, you’re almost there. Stand up, Keith. Stand up_!”  
  
A second voice called out to him - Shiro’s.  
  
He opened his eyes, unsure of when he'd closed them, and saw Shiro run to his side in a panic. The vision was gone again in seconds, but it was enough motivation for Keith to force himself up onto his knees, and then onto his feet. He found the keypad beside the door and set his hand on the center, unable to feel more than a slight pressure. It sprung to life and asked for identification.  
  
“Commander Keith Kogane,” he said, fumbling over frozen lips, “Paladin of Voltron.”  
  
The keypad lit up green, the door slid open, and he stumbled inside.  
  
While it wasn’t exactly warm inside, he was at least protected from the wind, and for now that would have to be enough. He was still delirious from his body’s shutdown, but he could focus enough to go in search of blankets, coats, anything he could wrap himself in. Using the wall for support, he limped through the small hangar and into a cave-like corridor, where supplies were stacked along the walls.  
  
Breathing into his hands in an effort to warm his frostnipped fingers, Keith sifted through tarps and netting and boxes of rations. Finally, near the end of the pile, there were hats, winter coats and scarves, and thick, scratchy blankets. Keith pulled a hat down to his brow and slipped a jacket on, struggling to zip it with his numbed fingers. He wrapped one scarf around his neck, and another around his chin and mouth, and grabbed as many blankets as he could hold to fold them around himself.  
  
Bundled as much as he could manage, he sat back against the cave wall. His injuries would need tending to, but as long as he was this cold his hands were essentially useless, and mending wounds would be an impossible task. His shivers were still violent, and his breath formed clouds, but he could feel an aching pain in his extremities, which meant he was regaining feeling, which meant he wasn’t going to freeze to death today.  
  
Comforted by that fact, at least, he finally allowed himself to rest.

* * *

Repair droids finished patching up the hole in the Galra cruiser’s hangar door within a few vargas, and with the danger of being sucked into space eliminated, General Sek stepped back into the room to assess the damage.  
  
One of his officers approached with a datapad. “Sir, our readings suggest Commander Kogane crashed near Coth Z1’s abandoned rebel base. The temperature on the planet is too low for a human to survive for long, but it’s still possible he survived the crash and made it inside. Should we send a search party?”  
  
Sek turned to face the officer, pulling Kogane’s luxite blade from the sheath at his belt. It had been in dagger-form when they took it from him, and the symbol at the hilt still glowed. It was faint, but clear.  
  
“He survived,” Sek said, “His blade is connected to his life. As long as the symbol glows, he still lives.”  
  
“We’ll organize a search party right away, sir,” the officer said.  
  
“No.”  
  
The officer blinked, surprised. “But - sir -”  
  
“Give it a quintant,” Sek said, settling the blade back in its sheath. “He’s wounded, and we’re blocking all transmissions from within the Neutral Zone from reaching the Coalition. He’ll lose his strength as time goes on without hope of rescue. If he’s still alive tomorrow, he’ll be weakened, and you’ll be able to capture him with ease.”  
  
“But, sir,” the officer said, sounding uncertain, “What if he doesn’t survive the night?”  
  
“Our plans can continue with or without his participation,” Sek said, turning away and folding his hands behind his back. A standard Blade of Marmora transport ship sat in the center of the hangar. “If he dies, so be it. Have a team take a ship and wait until tomorrow. The cruiser is moving forward. We have what we need.”

* * *

Keith opened his eyes to the sea of stars that formed the backdrop of the infinite void.  
  
Allura was there.  
  
He looked down at himself. “Am I dead?”  
  
“No,” she said. Sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, she held a hand out to him.  
  
Lowering himself to sit beside her, he took it. “Okay. So what’s going on then?”  
  
“I suppose you’re too weak to resist at the moment,” Allura said. “But you’ll be alright. You’ve had an awful day, haven’t you?”  
  
That was the understatement of the century. “Yours can’t be much better.”  
  
She frowned. She looked tired, with shadows under her eyes to match Keith’s, and the glow around her was faint. “I don’t know how much time we have, Keith. I feel weaker everyday. It’s as though I’m holding all realities together by a single thread that could snap any tick.”  
  
“I tried to help, Allura,” Keith said, looking down. “That’s why I’ve done all this. And I think I figured out how to do it, too, and then all this happened, and now I’m stuck on an ice planet with no way off. And they’re blocking outgoing transmissions, aren’t they? They've got those satellites I saw up and running. That’s why I couldn’t reach the Blades, isn’t it?”  
  
Allura nodded. "I believe so."   
  
“So. Stuck on an ice planet, with no way off, no means of contacting help, finite resources and a toxic alien wound that’s going to kill me in a week if I don’t freeze to death first.” Keith exhaled a long, slow breath.  
  
“I’ve gotten you into this mess, Keith,” Allura said, “I’m sorry.”  
  
He shook his head. “I made my choice to do this alone. I should’ve trusted the paladins. This is on me.”  
  
Allura had no response. She only squeezed his hand.  
  
“I’m going to die here,” Keith said, shocking himself with his own resignation. “Aren’t I?”  
  
Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry."  
  
He sighed, wiping his hand over his face. “It’s not your fault. I always thought - I mean, I’ve always been the type to die young. Just didn’t think it’d happen like this.”  
  
“You can’t give up, Keith,” she said, “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I can’t see the future. I can’t see much of anything. The only reason I can see you is - actually, I’m not sure why I can see you.”  
  
Keith lifted a brow. “Paladin bond?”  
  
“I can’t reach the others like I can reach you. I’ve tried. You’re the only one who hears me.”  
  
“Maybe it has to do with this quintessence sensitivity thing I’ve got?” Allura lifted her head and turned to him in confusion. “This is new information to me, too. I guess I have an Altean ancestor and my family has this sixth sense type thing.”  
  
She gaped at him. “You’re Altean?”  
  
Keith held up his hand, thumb and forefinger barely apart. “Only, like, this much Altean.”  
  
“I knew there had to be a reason I liked you,” Allura said, offering a teasing smile. She leaned forward to rest her cheek on her knees, rubbing her thumb over Keith’s knuckles.  
  
Despite himself, Keith laughed. “Can I ask you a question?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Does it hurt to die?”  
  
Allura blinked, looking down in thought. The corners of her mouth pulled downward. “I don’t think I’m technically dead. But doing what I did to get to the place I am now didn’t hurt. It is exhausting, though.”  
  
Keith nodded to himself. There had been moments, throughout the war, when he wouldn’t have thought twice about throwing himself into the fire to save others. It wasn’t as if his life was worth more than the next, and every Blade of Marmora knew the danger of their choices. Sacrificing his own life for the benefit of others was in his blood. He wasn’t looking to be a martyr, or a hero, or anything more than the other soldiers who died fighting for a better universe. It was simply reality.  
  
But none of those moments would have left him to a slow, painful, uncertain death. It was always something more along the lines of leaping in front of a gun, or a sword, or flying his ship through an impenetrable shield. It was instantaneous. It was death by violence, death by fire.  
  
He could freeze to death in his sleep, or starve, or succumb to his wounds. The Knights could show up to finish him off. It could take hours, or days. That was what frightened him the most; knowing it was coming, that he would waste away, but not knowing how long he had to sit twiddling his thumbs while he waited for death to take him.  
  
And he never got to say goodbye. Not to his mother, not to his friends, not to Shiro.  
  
“Don’t suppose you have any advice for how to handle waiting for the inevitable, huh?”  
  
“I find that sitting like this can be quite comforting,” Allura said.  
  
Keith blinked. Then, he pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped an arm around them, never letting go of Allura’s hand.

* * *

The wormhole dropped them off at the edge of the Neutral Zone. They had barely made it beyond the border when things began to go wrong.  
  
“Whoa,” Pidge said, hands whizzing over her screens. “Lance, Hunk, your cloaking is malfunctioning. You’re completely exposed.”  
  
“Uh, so are you guys,” Hunk said.  
  
Stunned, Pidge continued scrolling through various screens for answers. “I’m running diagnostics, but our ships wouldn't just break down on us, guys. Someone’s doing this.”  
  
“Open a frequency to the nearest Coalition planets,” Shiro said. Pidge obliged. “Attention. This is Captain Takashi Shirogane. Please respond if you can hear us.”  
  
The line produced only static.  
  
“Try the Blades,” Shiro said. Pidge changed the frequency. “Shiro to all Blades, we’re experiencing some technical difficulties. If you hear this, please respond.”  
  
Again, there was no response.  
  
“They’re blocking our frequencies,” Pidge said, “Well, anything long-range at least. We’d better stick close if we don’t want to lose contact.”  
  
“I guess that explains why Keith couldn’t get through to anyone,” Hunk said, “But that also means we’re on our own out here, guys.”  
  
“We’ve got each other,” Shiro said, “What about the wormhole tech? Is that working?”  
  
Pidge tried some buttons and then threw herself back into her seat with a frustrated huff. “No. That really doesn’t make sense. The tech to block transmissions and eliminate cloaking capabilities has been around for years, but I’ve never seen anything that can stop wormholes.”  
  
A cold sweat broke at the back of Shiro’s neck. No wormhole meant it would take at least twice as long to get to Keith, maybe longer, and if his vision was any indication Keith didn't have very long. “Where does that leave us in terms of an ETA?”  
  
“We’re adding hours. Several hours. The trip to Balara, the route that Keith presumably took, would have only been around four without a wormhole. They don't recommend using a wormhole for anything less than a six hour journey, anyway, so he probably didn't even realize the tech was down. Coth Z1 is in the same system as Balara, but on the other side completely. _With_ a wormhole, it was gonna take around ten hours, maybe longer. Without a wormhole, it’s gonna be at least a day, and that’s assuming no issues.”  
  
Shiro closed his eyes, taking a moment to compose himself. “Okay. What about autopilot? They couldn't have possibly messed with our autopilot functions, right?"  
  
Pidge checked. "Autopilot is still functional."  
  
"Great. We can put the ships on autopilot and take shifts sleeping. That way, if something happens, someone will be awake. We can’t waste any time with this. You heard what Kolivan said about the weather on Coth Z1.”  
  
“Shiro, buddy, you don’t think you could have another one of those vision thingies and see if Keith made it into the base, do you?” Hunk sounded as anxious as Shiro felt. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t go if he didn’t but, like, it’s gonna be a real bummer if he didn’t and I don’t think I can handle that, y’know?”  
  
“I’d know if he didn't make it,” Shiro said. His confident certainty was startling to even himself. “I’d feel it. He’s hanging in there. We just have to get to him.”  
  
“And we will,” Lance said, “He’s a fighter. If he’s made it this long, he can last another day.”  
  
That seemed entirely too optimistic, but Shiro couldn’t afford to think otherwise. Lance wasn’t completely wrong; Keith was strong, determined, courageous, but he was also human. It was all too easy to assume nothing could touch Keith when he'd lived through so much, but he wasn’t unbeatable. He wasn’t, despite what some people had come to think in the years since the end of the war, an unstoppable, invincible deity. He could bleed.  
  
Shiro would know.

* * *

Keith awoke, which by itself was a good sign.  
  
Everything ached, but that meant everything was still functional, which was a better sign.  
  
He was slow to get to his feet, struggling to bear weight on his damaged leg. Returning to the pile, he dug around the boxes, taking as many first aid patches as he could find - which weren’t many. The base had been abandoned, but they hadn’t left much behind. Even the rations had seemingly all expired. He gathered what he could into his arms and wandered back to the fire pit, thankful his Garrison survival training was actually useful.  
  
With a steady fire burning, Keith removed his heavy winter gear and peeled his uniform off, taking extra care as he pulled his injured leg free of the skin tight suit bottoms. It looked about as bad as it felt - a gash below his knee was crusted over with blood, and the skin around it had become a hideous mix of deep purple and yellow. With a gentle hand, he set a first aid patch over top of it, but it was old, and Keith had a feeling its usefulness had long since run its course. The wound from the battle against the druid was his next focus. It was ugly, purple veins snaking out from a black wound the size of a bullet.  
  
“Shit,” he said, lightly prodding the veins with a finger. They were sore to the touch, letting off a faint magenta glow. Another first aid patch wasn’t going to help him much, but there was nothing else to do for it. He settled a patch over it and pulled his clothes back on, the fabric warmed from sitting near the fire.  
  
As long as he stayed neared the fire pit, he could sit comfortably without the extra winter gear. His fingertips were tender from frostnip, but it hadn't progressed into dangerous territory and he considered himself lucky for still having ten usable fingers and ten usable toes. He only left the fire to search for food, coming up with nothing but questionable noodles. One bite nearly made him nauseous, and he set the rest aside in disappointment, stomach grumbling.  
  
Awaiting death made the hours crawl. Out of boredom, Keith pulled on the winter gear and wandered the base. At one end, the cave opened into the frozen wasteland, the entrance covered only by a tarp hanging from hooks attached to the cave walls. Sharp wind sneaked around the edges, slicing Keith’s exposed cheeks with cold. Down another corridor he found more supplies, but still no edible food and no first aid patches less than a few years past their usefulness. Beneath another pile of musty blankets sat an old scratched pot with a few bowls and spoons. Keith took the pot outside to fill with snow to melt for water.  
  
If nothing else, he wouldn’t wither away from dehydration.  
  
At the other end of the cave was a space with a couple alien computers and a radio. Keith tried the radio, and was shocked to find it still functional in theory, but as he attempted yet again to reach anyone from the Coalition or the Blades, his distress calls were met with silence and static. He couldn't not try - there were still planets and peoples friendly to the Coalition and the Blades in the Neutral Zone, and if a ship happened to pass close enough to Coth Z1 to receive the transmission, he couldn't _not_ try to reach them.  
  
Even knowing that his chances of rescue were slim to none, Keith didn't know how to stop trying.  
  
But the waiting still left him with a lot of time to think. Wallowing in his regrets wasn’t his style, but his heart did sink in his chest every time thoughts of Shiro tiptoed into his mind. A year and a half was a long time to not speak to the person he had thought of as his closest friend and been in love with for so long. The Blades would have received the signal that his ship was damaged within moments of its destruction. That wasn't something that could be blocked by any satellite - it was a tracking device hidden among the various instruments in the cockpit, connected to the Blade of Marmora mission control computers. It was designed to defy the kind of technology the Knights had devised. When the tracker was damaged, the computers became aware of the missing device and converted its destruction into a signal every Blade knew. They would know that something had happened to him, and given the location of his ship's demise they would all assume he'd perished with it.  
  
He could only imagine what his mother was feeling right now.  
  
He could only imagine what his friends were feeling right now.  
  
When he believed Shiro had died in the failed Kerberos mission, it had been life-altering. It was well after curfew; Keith’s roommate had been up on his phone, Keith already asleep in preparation for an early morning of piloting drills. His roommate shook him awake and dragged him out of bed into the common area, where all the students and staff had gathered in front of the television. No one was reprimanded for being out of their rooms. No one could take their attention away from the three familiar faces on the screen.  
  
Keith spent the night bent over a toilet, distressed to the point of physical illness. The other cadets were given the day off to mourn. Keith was given a week.  
  
It wasn’t enough. No amount of time would ever be enough. He stopped showing up to classes or finishing assignments. He blew off drills, opting instead to take his hoverbike to the places he and Shiro had made theirs. His communications officer and engineer tried to stage an intervention; he felt bad for them, for being stuck with him as their pilot while he was spiraling. It wasn’t their fault he could barely function, and as the best in their class they deserved better.  
  
Even Shiro’s ex, Adam, tried to talk some sense into him. Keith told him off for only caring about him out of guilt for leaving Shiro.  
  
Adam didn’t try again. Soon, they all stopped trying.  
  
Iverson inevitably had to make the call. His stunt with Griffin in the early days had given him two strikes on his record - attacking a fellow cadet was considered a serious offense, and he was endlessly frustrated that making a mockery of his dead and absent parents had only warranted one - and his repeated absence and dropping grades were the final straw. Still a minor for two more months, his foster mother had been called to bring him back to the Home.  
  
So he ran into the desert and didn’t look back.  
  
In the cave, Keith hugged his legs to his chest and wondered if Shiro missed him as much as Keith had missed Shiro. He wondered if Shiro was thinking about him as much as Keith had thought about Shiro, or if he’d seen the news and rolled over and gone back to bed.  
  
He never needed Shiro to love him back, but sitting there before the fire, missing the man he left behind, his loneliness felt more prominent than ever before. It tore a hole in his chest, reopening old wounds in his heart that had never been able to properly heal. After everything, even with his friends and family, his not-really-a-boyfriend and not-really-a-girlfriend, and his wolf, he was lonely, and he was going to die alone. There was no glory to this death, no sacrifice for the greater good, no one he was saving by giving up his own life. It was the product of each and every one of his faults, a series of missteps leading him to the end he'd always feared most.  
  
The cave tremored, shaking him from his self-pity.  
  
Pulling on his winter gear, Keith rushed through the cave to investigate, blades at the ready. A Galra ship had landed in the snow nearby, only visible from its blinking lights through the blizzard. It must have flown directly overhead, causing the cave to quake. Three Knights dressed in their own heavy winter gear trekked through the snow towards the base, holding their stolen blades out.  
  
With his injuries, he had a difficult enough time moving, never mind defending himself in a battle against three competent warriors. But he was already going to die - whether his wounds did it, or the cold, or the Knights, he was going to die. It was a fact he accepted.  
  
As they neared the bottom of the mountain, Keith slid down the steep slope, angled to spray snow. They threw their arms up to block the snow, leaving them unprepared when he reached the end for the swipe at their legs. They tumbled to the ground, arms flailing as they fell.  
  
Keith was going to die, but he would at least go down fighting.  
  
As they scrambled back to their feet, Keith gave all he had, avoiding putting too much weight on his bad leg. They were quick to realize the weakness, and exploit it, aiming their attacks towards his right side. Within moments, Keith’s hands were beginning to freeze as they had during his journey to the base. He gripped the hilts of his blades as firmly as he could manage, showing his assailants no mercy as he knocked them backward and parried every blow.  
  
“What’s that?” one of the Knights asked abruptly, and they each froze mid-battle.  
  
Keith wasn’t about to risk taking his eyes off of his attackers - not at first, at least. But the sound of a screeching roar behind him definitely piqued his interest, and when the three Knights spun on their heels and took off running, he figured it couldn’t hurt to at least have a glance over his shoulder.  
  
From beneath the snow burst a massive creature with pincers the size of a human and teeth that could tear through one, and it was speeding directly towards them.  
  
Because of course there was a giant, man-eating monster on this planet. Of course there was.  
  
Adrenaline finally kicking in, Keith turned and ran after them.

* * *

“That’s Coth Z1 ahead of us,” Shiro said as they approached the planet, shard-shaped and orbited by rings of ice.  
  
He hadn’t slept a wink. It was impossible - between the uncomfortable seats and the anxiety over Keith, and in particular over not seeing anymore visions of Keith since they left Daibazaal, sleep evaded him. He never even had a chance to catch it.  
  
But somehow, they made it through the Neutral Zone without running into any problems - aside from occasionally needing to pilot through fields of debris from previous battles, the journey was smooth. Too smooth. If Keith had a run-in with the Knights near Balara, that should have meant they would inevitably cross paths with the terrorist group.  
  
They were nowhere to be seen. It was like they had all vanished.  
  
“Do you guys hear that?” Pidge said, and began fiddling with the frequencies. The static faded and, as they closed in on the planet, gave way to coherent words in Keith’s voice.  
  
“This is Commander Keith Kogane calling all Blades. Please respond.”  
  
Shiro's heart leapt into his throat.  
  
“Keith,” Pidge said, “Keith, it’s Pidge. Are you there?”  
  
“This is Commander Keith Kogane. I am stranded on the planet Coth Z1. Conditions are treacherous and food is scarce. If you can hear me, please respond.”  
  
“Keith,” Pidge tried again, “It’s Pidge. Over.”  
  
“This is Commander Keith Kogane calling all Blades.”  
  
Hunk’s voice broke through the transmission. “It's an old message, guys. We must be getting within the range where the block doesn’t work anymore. But hey, he made it into the base! That’s great news!”  
  
Shiro’s knuckles were white on the controls as they glided into the upper atmosphere. “Are you picking up any energy signatures down there, Pidge?”  
  
“I’m checking now that we’re in range. I’m picking up on… oh no.”  
  
“Oh no?” Lance said, “What’s oh no?”  
  
“I’m picking up on at least four humanoid-sized energy signatures, and one… big one.”  
  
“A big one? What’s that mean?” Hunk asked, “Big like what?”  
  
Shiro had a feeling he knew exactly what. “Oh no.”  
  
“Guys.” Lance’s voice was edged with panic. “I think it’s big like _that_.”  
  
Below them, on the planet’s surface, a massive creature chased four smaller figures through the snow. It was the same kind of monster that had attacked Shiro’s clone when he crashed on this planet years ago - except now, it had ventured away from its oasis to search for its dinner.  
  
“One of those people down there has to be Keith,” Shiro said, “We need to distract the creature. Lance, Hunk, fire around it. Lead it away from them.”  
  
“On it.” Ahead, Lance piloted down, swung around and fired at the ground in front of the monster. It slid to a stop, fumbling over its own legs and letting out a screech.  
  
The four figures stopped. Realizing they were no longer being pursued, three of them turned on the other.  
  
“That’s Keith.” Shiro lowered the ship to the surface, touching down in the snow. “He’s outnumbered. We have to get out there.”  
  
Pidge removed her seatbelts, frantically searching the cockpit. “Do we have any weapons?”  
  
“I do.” Shiro opened the hatch, his prosthetic hand glowing a blinding blue. The cold was daggers in his skin but he pressed on, entering the fight with a fist curled into the back of one of the attackers’ coat. The man spun around, received a sharp metal punch to the jaw, and promptly crumpled to the ground in a heap.  
  
The one under attack was covered so that only a thin strip over his eyes showed, a hat pulled over his brow and scarves wrapped around the rest of his face, but Shiro didn’t need to see anything else to know it was Keith. The whites of his eyes had gone yellow with his Galra transformation - something he had explained to Shiro once, months after the first time he saw it in a battle he thought about almost every day, as his hybrid body’s panic response. They widened as they locked on Shiro, piercing as they ever were, and when he spoke his voice rang with utter disbelief. “ _Shiro?_ ”  
  
The attackers weren’t going to give them time for a reunion. One lunged at Keith, the other at Shiro, and the fight was on.  
  
It was incredible.  
  
Though Keith was clearly injured, his skills outmatched his opponent’s, and there was a brutality and mercilessness behind each swing that resembled a god of war. Shiro was quick to cover his weak spots, leaping to his side without hesitation. The battle became a dance; every move Shiro made complemented Keith. When Keith aimed high, Shiro aimed low. It had been so long since they’d fought together, yet they still acted as a unit, falling back into familiar steps with an unprecedented ease.  
  
They were so caught up in it that they didn’t catch the third Knight waking and approaching Keith from behind.  
  
Nor did they notice that the beast had turned back around, defiant of Lance’s and Hunk’s efforts to keep it away.  
  
Keith’s scream was guttural as the Knight’s blade pierced his shoulder, but it was drowned out by the Knight’s own screams and the monster’s roar as its long tongue latched around his middle and dragged him in.  
  
In terror, the Knight Keith had been in the midst of battling spun and ran for his ship. Keith, struggling to balance, his newly injured arm hanging close to his side, flung one of the two blades he carried - neither of which, Shiro realized, were his own. It circled over itself in the air until it lodged in the center of the Knight’s back, severing his spinal cord and, Shiro would guess, killing him instantly.  
  
Which left one Knight between the two of them. Lance managed to pilot his ship between them and the beast again, aiming shots directly at the creature this time to drive it away. It screeched and roared, rearing on its hind legs but stumbling back nonetheless. Its hard shell protected it from what would have been lethal blows, leaving it mostly annoyed at the obstacle between it and the best meal it had likely had in years.  
  
The third Knight stared between his fallen partner and his enemies and, in a rage, attempted to keep up the fight. He lifted his blade -  
  
And immediately dropped into the snow. Behind him, a few meters back, stood Pidge with a handgun held at eye level.  
  
“I found a weapon,” she said.  
  
With the enemy defeated, the three of them turned to watch as Lance and Hunk fought back the beast until at last it relented and retreated, diving into the snow and hurrying back to wherever it came from.  
  
At last free of danger, Keith and Shiro turned to each other. Keith tugged his hat up from his brow and the scarves around himself down, revealing more of his face. He’d gained a new scar perpendicular to the eyebrow opposite the cheek Shiro had scarred. His eyes were returning to their typical, human forms, and the violet irises shimmered as they took Shiro in. The tops of his cheeks were a deep red, and he couldn't put weight on one leg, and he stared at Shiro with mouth agape in such indescribable awe, and Shiro could swear he had never looked so beautiful.  
  
“Keith,” Shiro said, taking half a step forward.  
  
Without warning, Keith stumbled toward him, his leg giving out on him and nearly causing him to fall. Shiro stepped forward to help, but he caught himself and recovered, scrambling ahead until he could throw himself into Shiro’s arms.  
  
Shiro didn’t hesitate to wrap himself around Keith, relishing in the feel of him breathing and solid in his embrace; the man the universe mourned, alive and injured but _alive._ All that Shiro managed to think was Keith’s name on repeat, with intermittent responsible notions like _I need to get him fed and healed and warm_ in between the song of joy and desperate, overwhelming relief.  
  
“I’ve got you,” was all he could say. It took him a moment to realize Keith could barely stand, and that Shiro was bearing most of his weight, but he couldn’t have cared. Shiro would carry him back to the ship if he had to. Shiro would carry him anywhere he needed to go. “I’ve got you.”  
  
“You - you found me,” Keith said, breathless in his disbelief. His injured arm hung limp at his side, but the other clung around Shiro’s neck, and Shiro couldn’t help but tuck his face against Keith’s. He smelled like sweat and cold and blood and Shiro couldn’t stop breathing him in, reminding himself that Keith was real, that blood pumped through those veins, that the stubborn heart in his chest still beat on.  
  
“What were you thinking, doing this on your own?” Shiro breathed in a whisper, one of his hands sliding up to cradle the back of Keith’s head. “You have family, friends, people who love you and would do anything for you. What were you _thinking?_ ”  
  
“I-” Keith began, only to cut off with a jolt as Pidge threw her arms around him from behind. She was so much smaller than him that her face tucked between his shoulder blades.  
  
“You jerk,” she said, voice thick with tears. “You absolute ass.”  
  
“Hey guys?” Shiro looked to the side to see that Lance and Hunk had set down nearby and were leaning out of the hatch of their ship, hesitant to venture into the cold. Lance said, “Maybe we could move the touching reunion into the ship, where it’s warm? Please?”  
  
Shiro knew that was the reasonable thing to do - because _fuck,_ it was cold - but he couldn’t imagine letting go of Keith for even a moment, and apparently Pidge was of the same mindset. They each took one side of him, Shiro holding Keith’s arm by the wrist over his shoulders to carry most of his weight. Pidge left an arm around Keith’s waist, if for no other reason than to stay close. They shuffled into the ship, and once the hatch was closed they resumed their embrace. Keith had become too weak to stand - whatever adrenaline he’d been running on probably ran out once he realized he was finally safe - and Shiro’s own knees were giving out on him. He lowered them to the floor, settling on his knees and sitting back on his feet. Keith practically fell into his lap, taking care to keep weight off his injured leg and hiding his face in the curve of Shiro’s neck. He was trembling, and so was Shiro, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or something else entirely.  
  
Pidge took her place behind him again, tears streaming freely over her cheeks as she held on. Lance dropped to his knees to their side and threw his arms around Keith’s and Shiro’s shoulders. Through his own tears, he managed to croak, “Man, you stink.”  
  
“Try having the few days I’ve had and come out of it smelling like roses, jackass.” But Keith was laughing - he was _laughing_ , his shoulders shaking with it, and Shiro had never heard a more perfect sound.  
  
“Yep, he’s fine,” Hunk said, wrapping his powerful arms around all four of them. “It’s good to see you buddy. Like, so good to see you. We thought you were _dead_.”  
  
“So did I.” Keith lifted his head, his lips turned upward into the soft smile that Shiro hadn’t realized he’d missed. His eyes were dry - Keith was never much of a crier - and he removed his arm from around Shiro’s shoulders to instead wipe away tears Shiro hadn’t noticed were falling.  
  
He was bleeding from the wound at his shoulder, and his leg needed to be looked at, and he likely had other wounds in need of medical attention, and _he_ was wiping away _Shiro’s_ tears.  
  
Shiro tugged him back into his chest with one hand at the nape of his neck, burying his nose and lips in Keith’s hair. Keith didn’t resist, curling his hand into the front of Shiro’s flight suit. He needed this. They all did.  
  
So, for just a moment longer, they stayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out [this amazing art](https://twitter.com/ineedashiro/status/1097460271554220033) of the final scene by [@diococky](https://twitter.com/diococky)!
> 
> up next: the paladins made it to keith just in time, but he's still got a toxic alien wound to worry about. shiro stumbles upon some important realizations. old friends return when they're needed most. 
> 
> ps: the lullaby is ["st. judy's comet"](https://open.spotify.com/track/5FHJqj19k93FqmbAmldqdy?si=OGca9e7ASPWjm6iF5uWoDw) by paul simon and i cannot listen to it anymore without crying


	4. youth

**Chapter 4**

_We are the reckless_   
_We are the wild youth_   
_Chasing visions of our futures_   
_One day we'll reveal the truth_   
_That one will die before he gets there._

"Youth" - Daughter

* * *

The night they saved Shiro, Shiro slept in Keith’s bed.

“It’s your bed, really,” Keith said when Shiro hesitated. “Black was your Lion first, you’ve spent more time with her. I haven’t slept here since I left to join the Blades. If _you_ wanted to kick _me_ out, I’d get it.”

“I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed, Keith.”

“ _Your_ bed.”

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose, keeping his tone measured. “I can sleep on the floor, Keith. It’s fine.”

“You’re still in recovery. I’m not making you sleep on the floor. If either of us is gonna sleep on the floor, it’s gonna be me. I spent two years sleeping on rock and dirt, I can handle it.”

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Shiro, we’ve been friends for years. Nothing about this could make me uncomfortable.”

Shiro looked on with uncertainty. His head felt more jumbled than it had when he first returned to Earth. Thoughts that didn’t feel right mixed in with his own, memories were scrambled and blurred. Scenes he watched from the Black Lion’s eyes played back at him through the clone body’s memories, as if he’d experienced them, until he wasn’t sure what was his and what was 'other' anymore.

Some things were gone completely. He remembered through his clone when Keith returned with his mother and Romelle, but little beyond that. He remembered the intense relief he felt hearing his voice after six months of Kolivan telling him there had been no update on Keith’s status, and that there was nothing the paladins could do except wait it out.

It was the most anxious about anything Kolivan had ever seemed, and if not for that perhaps Shiro could have worried less. But when someone as typically calm and reserved as Kolivan seemed anxious, it didn’t exactly bode well.

But did he feel those things, or did the clone? Was he feeling them through the Black Lion, or was he confusing the clone’s reactions with his own? Nothing made sense. He was balancing on the edge of a mental break over memories that were real but foreign. He was taking residence in a brain that was crafted in a laboratory.

It was all a bit much. And to top it off, he remembered Keith returning unscarred, and waking up to a Keith whose face had been burned to hell and who wasn’t willing to explain how it had happened.

“Shiro,” Keith said, pulling him from his reverie. “Seriously, it’s okay with me. This bed is big enough for two people, we can share. I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” he said at last. “If you’re sure it’s fine.”

“I’m sure.” Keith smiled and turned so his back faced Shiro. He began to peel off his armor piece by piece, setting it in a neat pile near the side of the bed he’d claimed for himself. Standing in his undersuit, he spun back around. “I just realized - my clothes probably didn’t get saved from the Castle of Lions, huh?”

The unwelcome thought of sleeping beside a nude Keith crept into his mind, and Shiro felt heat rising into his cheeks. “I, uh - I guess not.”

“That’s fine. I think the pajamas that came with Black are - yeah, here.” The set had been folded and tucked into a small trunk across the room. Keith set them on the bed. “You can have those. I’m pretty sure Lance has been using the blue ones. I’ll go see if he’s got the red set somewhere.”

“Oh - uh, okay.” Shiro wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or disappointed, and the dissonance only deepened his blush. Keith stepped around him and was gone from the room in moments, and Shiro let out a long breath. He had never - _never_ \- in their years of friendship thought of Keith like that before. Keith had been a kid for so much of it, and in recent years one of them seemed to always be absent, be it from imprisonment or death or, in Keith’s case, choice.

But the version of himself that Keith left behind wasn’t really himself, even though he remembered the pain of saying goodbye, and wanting to chase after him and order him to stay with his team, and knowing that would only push him farther away. He remembered lying awake for countless sleepless nights without Keith there to soothe away the terrors with his kindness.

That version of himself, Shiro realized with shock, might have thought of Keith like that. That version of himself, whose memories and feelings still lingered in his body.

_Oh, shit._

Undressing himself with only one arm took more effort than Shiro expected, and by the time Keith had returned with red pajamas in hand, he was still struggling with the last pieces of armor not easily within his reach. Keith set his bundle down, eyeing Shiro with concern. “Do you want some help?”

“No,” Shiro said, craning his neck in an effort to see where the release of his shoulder plate was. “I need to learn to do this myself. Especially if it’s gonna be a year and a half before we get back to Earth.”

“Okay,” Keith said, turning so his back faced Shiro. He reached behind himself to unzip his undersuit, peeling the clinging fabric back off of smooth, pale skin. Shiro took note of a couple new scars, losing his train of thought when the rest of the undersuit fell away to the floor, leaving Keith standing in his boxer briefs.

Keith had always been a skinny kid, exaggerated by a growth spurt in his teen years that stretched him out like taffy. But where the knobs of his spine had once stood out between ghostings of his ribcage, he was now filled out with well defined muscle. Years of training had given him the body of a warrior. Dark hair, grown out at least an inch or two since Shiro had last seen him, tumbled over strong shoulders with a dusting of freckles. Shiro imagined pushing his fingers into Keith’s hair and bending him over the bed, taking him apart piece by piece. He imagined being Keith’s undoing, bodies twisting together in ecstasy. He imagined discovering all the ways Keith could say his name with a mind scrambled by bliss.

Keith leaned to pull his feet from the legs of his suit, and Shiro, unable to reconcile his staring any longer, swiftly looked away. It was like he’d never seen Keith undressed before. Aside from the locker rooms at the Garrison, he’d cleaned Keith’s wounds more than once since they left Earth. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before.

Except the muscles. The muscles were new.

_Stop staring, Shirogane._

Finally finding the hook of his armor, Shiro sighed with relief as he pulled the last pieces off, dropping them with the rest on the floor. The zipper, though still annoying to reach, was much easier to handle by comparison. He pulled the undersuit off, quick to exchange it for the pajamas Keith had set out for him. When he turned back around, fully dressed, Keith was already brushing his teeth in the bathroom, apparently oblivious Shiro’s gaze.

That was a relief, at least.

When Shiro finished getting ready, Keith was already lying in bed on his side, one arm tucked under his pillow and the other close to his chest. His eyes were closed, but as Shiro lowered himself onto the bed he opened them, blinking away sleep.

“Sorry,” Shiro said, “You fell asleep fast.”

“This mattress is so much nicer than dirt,” Keith said, voice low and words slurring together. “Thanks for not making me sleep on the floor.”

“I would never make you sleep on the floor,” Shiro said.

Within moments Keith was asleep again, but Shiro laid wide awake, watching him. It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a bed - spending so many late nights in one or the other’s room occasionally meant falling asleep there, too. On at least a handful of occasions, Keith had fallen asleep with his head rested on Shiro’s bicep. The trust had always been amazing to Shiro - for Keith to sleep so soundly, so easily, with Shiro by his side after everything he had done. 

He had even less reason to trust him now. Shiro couldn’t remember anything beyond Keith’s return, but the burn had to come from somewhere, and Shiro could think of no reason for Keith to keep quiet other than to spare his feelings.

And he was sound asleep, somehow. He wasn’t afraid.

Amazing.

* * *

Shiro wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, on the floor of the Garrison ship, holding each other like everything would fall apart if they didn’t. By the time they gathered themselves, Keith had gone worryingly pale, his grip on Shiro weakening. Pidge ordered Hunk and Lance to take a step back while she got the first aid kit. Shiro helped Keith to his feet and half-carried him to the back of the ship, where a sleeping area was separated from the rest.

Pidge had thought it might be necessary, no matter what state they were bringing Keith back in, to have a bed for him to lay on.

“Okay, Keith, can you give me a rundown of your injuries?” Pidge said, bringing the kit over to the bed while Shiro helped him sit.

“Would you like them chronologically,” Keith said, voice tight from what Shiro guessed was pain, “Or ranked by severity?”

“Chronologically.” Pidge opened the kit, digging around inside and picking out sanitary wipes and swabs of gauze. “Old wounds that haven’t been treated properly might be infected. Can you get your layers off?”

Keith pulled off his hat and scarves, but stopped there. “I can’t lift my arm.”  

“Here, let me help you.” Shiro moved around in front of Keith and unzipped the heavy winter jacket for him, pushing it down over his shoulders and taking extra care with his injured arm. The inside was shiny and sticky with his blood.

“Wounds, Keith,” Pidge said, setting a couple swabs aside.

“I got hit by some druid magic,” he said, pointing towards his torso with his good hand, “Right there. Doctor on the Knights’ ship said if it doesn’t get taken care of quick, I’m gonna get poisoned by the quintessence and die within a week.”

Pidge and Shiro looked at each other, expressions equally horrified. Shiro wasn’t sure which part of what Keith had said he hated more.

“Can you help him take his shirt off?” she said.

“Yeah,” Shiro said, maneuvering the sleeve off his good arm and lifting it over his head so that he could peel it off over the injury without causing him too much pain. The wound on his shoulder was deep and still bleeding, and Pidge handed him some gauze to begin putting pressure on it. Shiro shifted where he sat, setting one hand on the front of Keith’s shoulder for leverage while he pressed the other against the wound. Keith winced, and Shiro felt immediately apologetic.

“Shit, Keith,” Pidge said, drawing Shiro’s attention to the aforementioned wound left by druid magic. The wound itself was small, but it was crusted black with dark veins snaking outward. She used one of the sanitary wipes to clean the crust away, and Keith made a sound like a whimper, his entire body flinching away from her hands.

She looked at Shiro, and he shared her concern. “Anything else, Keith?” she said, gentler as she settled a healing patch over the spot. 

Keith winced, but continued nonetheless. “Then there’s the leg. It got crushed in the crash. It’s not broken but I can still barely walk on it.”

“You’re gonna need to take your pants off,” Pidge said. She tossed the wipe into a garbage bin. “Shiro, I’ll take care of that, you help.”

“Uh-” Shiro looked to Keith for permission.

“It’s fine,” Keith said, “I’d rather you than Lance.”

“Really?” Shiro said, shifting so Pidge could fit her hands in place of his. She pulled the gauze back and began cleaning the wound, a healing patch at the ready on the bed beside her. He stood and stepped back around Keith, who was already trying to undo the buttons with his one good hand. Crouching in front of him, he waited until Keith was noticeably struggling before offering his assistance. “I thought you and Lance were pals, now.”

“Sure, but Lance isn’t the type of pal I want helping me take my pants off.”

Despite himself, Shiro grinned, gaze flicking up towards Keith. “And I am?”

“Are you gonna hold it over my head for the rest of our lives?”

“Of course not.”

Keith smiled. “Then you are.”

“And here I thought we’d drifted too far apart,” Shiro said, attempting to make it sound more like a joke, less like a confession.

“On the contrary,” Keith said, more naked than not at this point, “I have never felt closer to you.”

“Wounds, Keith,” Pidge reminded him again, before Shiro, cheeks heated, could attempt to fumble around a reply. She tossed the wipes aside, preparing the healing patch. 

“The only other big one is the shoulder. There might be some cuts and bruises in places, I dunno.”

“There’s a lot of blood in your hair,” Shiro said, cautious as he pulled the fabric away from a patch surrounded by grotesque, deep purple bruises. The sight of them made him cringe.

“I got hit with some debris when the Knights blew up my ship. The wound’s gone, though. They healed it for me.”

“Why?” Pidge asked, pressing the healing patch to his shoulder. Keith hummed in relief. “I mean - why would they help you? Aren’t they the bad guys?”

“I’m not sure. It sounded like they wanted me alive for something, but they didn’t need me very long. The guy in charge was gonna let me die from the toxicity.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you got away.” Pidge returned her attention to the wound at his side. “This looks… really bad, Keith.”

“Feels worse,” Keith said, prompting Shiro to look up. He didn’t look healthy - he looked like hell itself had chewed him up and spat him back out. In his own way, he tried to plow through his pain, jaw tight from the strain, but Shiro had seen that look before. He knew better.

“Let’s look at your leg,” Pidge said, “Scoot back a little and lie down, okay?”

Keith obliged, seeming grateful for the opportunity to rest. Shiro tugged his suit bottoms over his ankles and set them beside Keith’s shirt, standing up and taking a step back to allow Pidge to work. As she had done with his shoulder, she cleaned the blood from the wound under Keith’s knee. Much of his leg had gone a frightening shade of purple, bruised down to the bone. Looking at it, Shiro wasn’t sure how Keith had managed to walk on it at all.

When it was clean, she settled another healing patch on it, and Keith exhaled his relief. “Okay, Pidge, spill. You’re holding back on me here.”

Pidge worried her bottom lip between her teeth, reaching to adjust glasses she wasn’t wearing. “Well. Your shoulder and your leg are gonna be fine. You’ll have a bit of trouble walking while it’s healing but the patches I gave you are fast-acting. Usually reserved for life-and-death stuff, but I was worried that was what we were gonna be faced with.”

“And what about the Big Bad?”

Pidge looked to Shiro, and the expression made Shiro’s heart leap into his throat. It was the same helpless expression he recognized from years of hospital visits and terminal diagnoses. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do for it. We need to get you to a doctor, fast.”

“We’re a day out of the Coalition,” Shiro said.

“I know,” Pidge said, “We should scan the area for any planets that might be friendly and have the medical resources he’s going to need.”

“There aren’t a lot out here,” Keith said. His voice was losing feeling, like he was falling into a state of acceptance of his own demise. Shiro sat on the bed beside him, setting a hand on his arm in support. “I can think of one or two, but they aren’t much closer, and they’re in the opposite direction. We’ll be going farther away from the Coalition, and without wormholes, in space like this… that’s dangerous.”

“If we can get there within a day, it might be worth it,” Pidge said. She held up her datapad, showing him the scan she’d taken. “It’s eating deeper into your flesh, Keith. Those veins are spreading out farther. It’s really bad. You’ll _survive_ until the end of the week, at least, but the way this is spreading, it might not matter soon whether or not we intervene.”

“How much time do we have before this becomes fatal?” Shiro asked. He couldn’t work off of details like that; he needed times to beat, goals to meet. Anything else would make him lose his mind.

“Anywhere between twenty and thirty hours. If I could examine it for longer, I might be able to arrive at a more exact time, but if we want to get him anywhere we have to go _now._ And the nearest Coalition planet just isn’t going to cut it if we’re looking at the lower end of that range.”

“The closest planet with medical advancements on par with the Coalition’s is Sionus,” Keith said, lifting his good hand to rub his temple. “We've got a team of Blades stationed out there. They're not the nicest people in the universe, but they're not gonna attack us on sight. Without a wormhole it’s maybe an eighteen hour journey. You can go ahead and check if you want but seeing as we’re short on time...”

Pidge took a breath. “I’ll tell Hunk to get us some coordinates. Shiro can help you get dressed. I’m gonna get a sling ready for your arm.” She stood, swiping a hand through her hair as she stepped out of the room.

Keith propped himself up on his good arm, managing with effort to sit.

“I brought some clothes for you.” Shiro’s voice was soft, heavy with the knowledge that they weren’t yet in the clear, that there was still the very real possibility of this man slipping through his fingers. “Thought you could use something a little more comfortable than your suit.”

Keith turned his head to look at Shiro. Spending so long only seeing Keith in the pictures they showed on the news, the downward curve of his mouth that had been a near constant as long as Shiro had known him was startling. Matched with the look in his eyes that only someone who knew him as well as Shiro would recognize as fear, it made him look incredibly young. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Shiro stood, finding the bag he’d packed in his haste to leave Earth and pulling out a gray Garrison hoodie and black sweats. As he returned to the bed, Keith had pushed himself back to the edge of the bed and pulled his hair from its braid, running his fingers through the waves it’d created in his dark hair. His hand came away with flecks of dried blood.

Shiro took a seat beside him, setting the sweats down and taking Keith’s injured arm with a gentle hand, gaze lingering on the tattoo that swirled over his bicep and across his back. The design was alien, interwoven black and white lines that twisted and turned over one another like sound waves within a deep purple nebula, ending an inch or so above the elbow. It was one of a number of markings on Keith’s skin that Shiro didn’t recognize.

He guided Keith’s arm through the sleeve of the hoodie, watching his expression for any signs of pain. The garment was too big for his small frame, regardless of how muscular he’d become, and the end of the sleeve need to be rolled up before Keith’s hand could pop through.

“When did you get these done?” Shiro asked, trying to sound conversational as he held the hoodie’s neck open for Keith to poke his head through. Between the news that Keith could still easily die in their care, and the awkwardness of Shiro being the one to help Keith undress and redress after not speaking to each other for over a year, he imagined they could both use conversational. “The tattoos. They look good.”

“Oh, uh, thanks. Eight months ago I wanna say? I had a Galra artist do them.” With his head through, he was able to take care of the rest himself, slipping his arm into the sleeve and pulling his hair out so that it rested over one shoulder.

It looked good long. Shiro stood and moved in front of him, holding the sweats out. “Do you think you can manage these on your own?”

“Guess we’ll find out.” Sweatpants in hand, Keith wrestled his injured leg in first, and then the other, but as he stood to pull them on, his wounds betrayed him and his balance wavered.

Shiro caught him before he could fall, one hand gripping his unhurt arm and the other flat on his chest.

“Thanks,” Keith said, steadying himself and pulling the sweats the rest of the way on. “Sorry. I’m basically useless right now.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything.” The healing patches didn’t alleviate pain, and given Keith’s condition, Shiro could hardly fault him for needing a bit of extra help while he healed.

But that wasn’t his only meaning, and as he settled into the soft gaze he had only ever used with Keith, he hoped the other understood that.

Keith heaved a sigh and nodded, briefly glancing downward at the hand on his chest. Something about it caught and held his attention a moment longer, his lips parting in question. Shiro almost asked what was wrong, only to notice seconds behind Keith that his ring finger, after three years of marriage, was strikingly bare.

Scrambling for something to say, Shiro arrived at nothing while Keith finally looked back up at him with his feelings hidden. “I think the sweats might be a bit too big.”

It was difficult to believe after so many years of knowing him, he had no idea what that look in Keith’s eyes meant. He leaned back and sure enough, Keith had to hold the waistband bunched in his hand to keep them from sliding back down. “Oh…”

“I can just ask Lance if he has an extra pair.” Keith’s tone was apologetic, as was his smile before he turned to shout over his shoulder, “Hey, Lance!”

A beat passed, and then Lance poked his head into the room, eyebrows up. His gaze traveled up and down the two of them, taking an extra second to focus in on the hand on Keith’s chest. “You called?”

“Do you have a pair of jeans I can wear?” Keith asked.

The corners of Lance’s mouth twitched. “Are you saying you wanna get in my-”

“ _Lance._ ”

“I’ll go grab one,” Lance said, turning back out of the doorway with the sort of smug grin that would have infuriated Keith a few years ago.

Now he only looked mildly annoyed. “See what I mean?”

Shiro snorted. “Oh, yeah.”

Lance returned with a pair of jeans and stepped back out to give Keith the privacy to change. By the time Shiro helped him step back into the ship’s main space, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge had gathered around a monitor where Hunk seemed to be trying different navigational routes.

“I told you,” Keith said, “The best bet is Sionus. It’s the only place close enough.”

“We didn’t doubt you, buddy,” Hunk said, turning the screen for them to see better. “We’re here and Sionus is here. I’ve been running some scenarios to figure out our best options. If we burn through what’s left of our fuel to get these ships moving as fast as possible, we could make it there three or four hours earlier than expected.”

“The problem with that is we’ll be out of fuel,” Pidge said, “And there’s no saying if the Sionusians will provide us with any for the return.”

“But, even if we did take the slower route, we still wouldn’t have enough fuel leftover to make the return trip,” Lance said, “So we might as well get there as soon as we can.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Shiro said. He helped Keith into a seat, and once he was down, Keith slumped into it as though the weight of the universe was pressing on him. “Do you have that sling, Pidge?”

“Right here,” Pidge said, holding up a makeshift cloth sling that seemed to be made from the tattered remains of someone’s t-shirt. “It’s not the best, but it’ll do.”

They all gathered around the seat, around Keith. There was an unspoken need between them to be close, after nearly losing him, and Keith didn’t seem to mind.

Pidge helped him settle his arm into the sling, checking that it was secure before stepping back to observe her handiwork. “Okay. I’ve done everything I can. Just try to rest for now. You’re gonna stay with Hunk and Lance, so you’ll be able to lay down for the whole trip.”

Hunk beamed, leaning over into Keith’s field of vision. “Team Klunk, together again.”

Keith groaned. “I thought we agreed to never bring that up.”

“Hey, I think it’s got a nice ring to it,” Lance said, nudging Keith’s uninjured shoulder. “And you really can’t complain, since you’re the one who made it up.”

“I cannot be held responsible for anything I say when I’m that stoned,” Keith said, laughter bubbling up at the memory. Shiro relished the sound. Despite everything, he could still manage to laugh. Even Lance and Hunk mirrored each other with soft smiles directed toward their friend.

But the relief was short-lived as Keith’s laughter dissolved into a fit of coughs. His entire body shook with them, and one by one each of the former paladins’ expressions turned back to concern with the reminder that all was not well, not yet.

“We need to get going.” Pidge’s voice was grave, her eyes locked on Shiro.

Shiro nodded. “I’ll help Keith back into the bedroom so he can rest.” He slipped his arm under Keith’s and around his back and brought him back onto his feet, the others clearing a path for them to shuffle into the back space.

“Hey, if anyone has some food, I haven’t eaten in _days_ ,” Keith said before they reached the door.

“I have cookies!” Hunk dove for the forgotten container and carried it in with them. As Shiro helped Keith lay down, Hunk popped the top off and set the cookies by his side. “I mean, it’s not the most nutritious first meal in days but it’s something. And I promise when we get to Sionus I will find the best burger on the planet for you.”

Keith’s smile was weak, but there. “Thanks, Hunk.”

Hunk placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I got you, buddy.” Drawing back, he left them to begin flight checks with Lance.

“I’ll see you soon,” Shiro said, willing himself to seem calm for Keith’s sake. He began to turn, but Keith’s hand shot out and caught his. In surprise, Shiro stilled, a question at his lips.

Keith beat him to it, and the words hung heavy in the air between them, sticking to him and seeping inside to weigh on his heart. “Am I gonna die, Shiro?”

The cruelty of this situation wasn’t lost on Shiro. Keith was strong. He’d stared death down without batting an eye plenty of times as a Blade and as a paladin. But he was only in his twenties; old enough for years now to gamble on his life in war, and still young enough to fear the consequences of a bad bet. For the better part of three days he had been caught mere steps ahead of his own demise, mere steps behind the rest of his future.

For everything the universe believed him to be, he was still human and there was only so much he could take.

“No,” Shiro said. The odds were stacked against them. His metal hand shifted to cup his cheek, thumb tracing the outline of the scar Shiro had given him. Keith's hand shook in his, and Shiro gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re gonna be just fine.” 

Keith held on a moment longer, and Shiro didn't want to let go. He wanted to plant himself in this room, by this bed, and keep him calm through the flight, soothe his pain as much as he could. There were too many things he needed to say.

It was the sort of subtle realization that came so naturally, it was almost painfully embarrassing to think back on every feeling over the years that suddenly made sense, if he had only opened his eyes. More frustrating was that he could pinpoint the exact moment he blinded himself to it. 

This wasn't friendship. This was something else entirely, something only Keith had been brave enough to say. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Shiro said again, and Keith let him go.

Lance and Hunk were preparing for launch by the time he managed to leave Keith. From the doorway, Shiro glanced once more over his shoulder into the bedroom. In Shiro’s Garrison hoodie and a pair of Lance’s jeans, he might have been able to pass as a student with a bad hangover. But his skin was a sickly pallor, and if not for his slow, determined breaths he would have looked little better than a corpse. As Shiro watched, he lifted his good hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, brow creasing with his losing battle against the pain. Even surrounded by people who loved him and would do anything for him, his nightmare stretched onward. Survival dangled inches ahead of him, and after everything he’d been through the last few days, he was still desperately unable to reach.

It broke Shiro’s heart.

Pidge was waiting for him. Pushing his feelings aside, he opened the hatch and stepped out into the cold where their ship awaited their return.

* * *

“He doesn’t look so good, Lance.”

They were about three hours into the flight. Lance had done more piloting in the past couple of days than he had in years, and while he was still completely confident in his ability to get them to Sionus safe and sound, the addition of an extra passenger had done nothing to help his nerves.

This wasn’t just a rescue mission; after losing Allura, Keith had become one of Lance’s closest friends, and Keith was dying.

There was no sugarcoating it. Keith was dying.

Lance checked over his shoulder to peer into the back room. They’d left the door open, in case Keith needed something, and to make sure he was still breathing every now and then. And he _was_ still breathing, though his breaths were ragged, his hand covered his eyes and he looked more in pain than Lance had ever seen him. This wasn’t just any pain; this was agony.

And he had to sit there and bear it for another twelve hours, at least.

“Maybe we should talk to him a little,” Hunk said, “Keep him distracted? I mean, look at him. Have you ever seen him like that?”

“No, Hunk, I have not,” Lance said. He spun back around and, checking that their path was clear of debris or any other obstacles, turned on the autopilot function.

The pair of them stood and moved to the door. Keith didn’t seem to notice as they entered, and Lance’s tone was cautious as he announced their presence. “Hey, man. How’re you holding up there?”

Keith turned his head toward them, shifting his arm only enough to peek under it. The scleras of his eyes had become a Galran yellow, his pupils morphed into catlike slits. It was the most obvious change, and with it the others became suddenly visible; his fingers were claws, his teeth pointed into fangs, and Lance could swear there was a faint purple undertone to his skin.

Keith told them about the change once, so that they wouldn’t overreact if they ever saw it. It was a panic response, an automatic survival instinct that he had no control over. His body’s response to his wounds was to panic.

Lance swallowed around the fear creeping up his throat.

“Hanging in there,” Keith finally said, voice hoarse.

“Do you need anything?” Hunk was smiling, but it couldn’t reach his eyes. The concern was rooted too deeply. “I mean, we don’t have a lot, but I could get you some water or something?”

“Water would be great,” Keith said, finally lifting his arm and struggling to sit up. Lance rushed forward, setting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving anymore, and with his other hand he rearranged the pillows so Keith could lean against them.

Keith eyed him. Had his eyes been human, he might have seemed curious - but they bored straight through Lance, setting his nerves on edge. Keith leaned back, exhaling a long breath through his nose.

Hunk left to get a glass, leaving them to themselves. For as close as they had become, Lance had no idea what to say to him. He knew he should attempt to comfort, or distract, and his mind circled all the things he should say only to come back around to the phrase that had been stuck on his mind since they heard it in Keith’s office.

_I think I might know of a way to bring Allura back._

Everything Keith had done to get himself into this situation was for Allura. Lance couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it; it was entirely within Keith’s character to want to save people, especially his friends, but they were beyond the days of believing he needed to do everything on his own.

Or at least, Lance thought they were.

He should’ve told them.

Hunk was just returning to the room when it slipped out - the question they all wanted to ask, but knew they didn’t have time for. They would get the answer when he was safe and healthy and when the clock wasn’t ticking down on his limited hours left before saving him became an impossibility.

But right now they had nothing but time, and Lance needed to know. He deserved to know. “What _happened_ to you?”

“Dude,” Hunk said, smacking Lance’s shoulder and holding the glass out to Keith.

Keith’s brow furrowed, and he took the offering, sipping before he finally answered, “I’d really rather talk about that with everyone here, Lance.”

“You said you were looking for a way to help Allura,” Lance said, unable to stop now that he’d started. “But why now? What brought all this on? Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

Keith set the glass down. “You saw my message.”

“If _anyone_ deserved to know about this, it’s me.”

“Lance, we can talk about it later with everyone,” Hunk said, “He’s been through a lot. This is not what I meant by distracting him.”

“I’ve been able to talk to Allura,” Keith said. “Or, she’s been able to talk to me. I don’t know how the connection works, it just does.”

Whatever Lance was expecting, it sure as hell wasn’t that. He took a moment to think it through, shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, come again?”

“I told you guys about the voices I’ve been hearing,” Keith said.

Hunk took a seat on the edge of the bed. “I thought those were getting better.”

Keith shrugged. “I was getting better at shutting them out. But then I found out about this quintessence sensitivity thing - I mentioned that in the message, right? And I thought, maybe that’s why I’m hearing the voices. Maybe it’s not just in my head. So I decided to listen. It was Allura. Basically, she needs our help. She thought she and Honerva could hold all realities together but they can’t. I didn’t tell you because I needed - I needed to come up with some kind of plan. And I guess I still wasn’t sure it wasn’t all in my head.”

Lance and Hunk shared a look. Hunk said, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yes,” Keith said, “But I’d really rather discuss it with everyone. I’m sorry, I just - I think it’s something everyone should hear.”

“You might not get a chance to discuss it with everyone,” Lance said without meaning to.

Hunk looked shocked on Keith’s behalf. “ _Dude_.”

“There’s a datachip in my belt, on the floor somewhere,” Keith said, “It’s got everything on it. If I don’t get the chance, it’s all on there. But I think everything is gonna turn out okay.”

He sounded like he was forcing himself to believe that was true. Lance stood and found his belt, digging through each pouch until he found the datachip and stuffed it in his own pocket.

“There’s the Keith I know,” Hunk said, nearly smacking Keith’s injured shoulder and only just managing to stop himself. “Where’d the confidence come from, huh?”

“Shiro,” Keith said, honest.

“It was nice seeing you two acting like friends again.” Hunk’s smile was becoming more real, apparently pleased with himself for finally finding a suitable distraction. “Y’know, after everything.”

Keith’s own smile was sad. “I never thought of him as anything less.”

Lance stood. “What about the cave drawings?”

Hunk turned on him, exasperated. Before he could be berated, Keith asked, “What?”

“The cave drawings. Or carvings, or whatever they were. We all saw them. They were of the Lions and a woman and they were glowing.”

Keith blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Lance pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to get frustrated. Keith was hurt, and he didn’t need to be interrogated - but Lance had to know. “We all had a vision of you. In it was a bunch of cave drawings. What did they mean?”

Keith shook his head. “I didn’t see any drawings, Lance.”

“But-” Hunk said, his own shock getting the better of him, “We all saw them, though.”

Again, Keith could only shake his head. “I don’t know what to tell you. Sorry.”

From the cockpit, Pidge’s voice came over the comm. Hunk stood and rushed out to answer her, leaving Lance and Keith alone once again.

There were still so many questions Lance wanted to ask. A sense of bitterness welled in the pit of his stomach, knowing that Allura had been contacting Keith and not him. It was irrational. Especially if Keith had this extra ability that the others didn’t, then he might have been the only one of them Allura _could_ contact. It wasn’t personal.

Yet it brought back a hundred old thoughts and inadequacies he hadn’t felt in years. It was the grief talking, twisting his feelings into a knot so big nothing else could get through. He heaved a sigh, clenched a fist and moved to the door. “I’ll let you get back to your rest. Let us know if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Keith said, and Lance could feel his Galra eyes watching him as he left.

* * *

Sionus appeared in the distant space as a beacon of light to the weary travelers, over fourteen hours into their journey.

Shiro didn’t bother attempt to sleep. Knowing Keith was in the other ship, in pain, was enough to keep his mind spinning beyond the extent of sleep’s grasp. Every couple hours, he would ask Pidge to hail Hunk and check on him. His responses were always generic; Keith is doing alright, Keith is resting, Keith says hello. As they finally began to close in on their destination, they opened a frequency one more time.

“Hey, Hunk,” Pidge said, “It’s looking like we should be landing in the next half hour. How’s Keith looking?”

“Hey, Pidge.” It was Lance on the other end, voice grave. “Hunk is in the back room with Keith right now.”

“Is everything okay?” Shiro asked, unable to suppress the immediate concern from his tone.

There was a hesitation before Lance said, “We’re really cutting it close here, guys.”

“What happened?” Shiro asked in a panic at the same time Pidge asked, “What’s wrong?”

“About twenty minutes ago he started talking to himself. We checked on him and he was running a pretty high fever, and he hasn’t been responding to either of us. Hunk’s been back there making sure he keeps breathing.”

Shiro’s knuckles turned white on the controls.

“Let us know if anything changes,” Pidge said, barely controlling her own emotions. “He just has to make it a little longer.”

“Copy.” Lance clicked off the line.

“I told him he’d be fine,” Shiro said in horror, hands shaking.

“And he will be,” Pidge said, “He just has to make it a little longer.”

As they broke into transmission range, Pidge opened a frequency for a permission to land and Lance opened another asking for a medical team to be waiting for them at the hangar. The landing process couldn’t have taken more than twenty minutes, but it felt infinitely longer to Shiro. He half expected Lance to contact them with the news that Keith’s heart had finally given out.

But that message never came, and as he and Pidge stepped out of the hatch, across the hangar Hunk carried Keith in his arms towards a waiting team of emergency medical technicians.

Without thinking, Shiro burst into a sprint. He made it to their side as Hunk lowered Keith onto a gurney; his eyes were closed, lips parted as he struggled through each breath, and his skin had taken on a distinctive purple hue. A device that looked a bit like an oxygen mask was placed over his mouth and nose and he was swiftly whisked away.

Shiro watched him go with a sinking feeling in his chest. The situation was entirely out of his control; so briefly, as he held Keith in his arms on Coth Z1, he’d tricked himself into believing otherwise.

But there was nothing he could do.

Beside him, Lance set a hand on his shoulder, and Hunk set his on the other.

“We should find a way to the hospital, guys,” Pidge said, voice low and urgent.

“Come on, Shiro,” Lance said, turning him with them as they exited the tarmac. He needed the extra assistance, otherwise he wasn’t sure he would ever move from that spot.

Sionus was an arid planet, and the city was built against a series of cliffs that reminded Shiro a bit of those back on Earth, near the Garrison - though those sat alone in the desert, untouched by development, and these had buildings and stairways and platforms built into the rock wall. The city itself had only one main road, down the center, while the rest of it sprawled out in dirt alleyways between the buildings. There must have been some sort of rhyme or reason to it, but as they stared down the map at the front of the airport Shiro couldn't find any sort of sensible pattern. 

The hospital, in a stroke of luck, was only about a ten minute walk down the main road, and they walked it in silence. There was a very real fear shared among them of what awaited when they arrived, but as they stepped through the glass front doors they could only sit and be patient while Keith was treated.

Shiro hated hospitals. 

He attempted once to call Keith’s mother, but as expected the lines were unable to connect. He could only imagine what was going through Krolia’s mind; they’d been gone for days with no contact, and she’d already doubted her son’s survival.

This - all of it - was a nightmare for everyone.

As Shiro turned to make his way back to his friends, a Sionusian nurse clicked his tongue to get his attention. Shiro stopped, looking up with a weary stare.

The Sionusians were a humanoid people, a bit shorter on average than the people of Earth and with large, round eyes that were almost entirely pupil. This one’s skin was a dusty orange, with hair a deep shade of blue. He leaned close to Shiro, crooking a finger. “You and your friends might want to watch your back around here, understand?”

It took Shiro aback. “Excuse me?”

“You’re Voltron, right? The paladins, anyway.” The nurse clicked his tongue again, disapproving. “The rest of the universe may worship you, but not here. And there’s people here who won’t take kindly to you sticking around.”

Stunned, Shiro was unable to formulate a response as the nurse slipped back into his routine, taking a medical cart down the hall and out of sight. He glanced around him, suddenly very aware of the way other members of staff and patients were watching him, their gazes flicking away as soon as he met them.

Defiant, he straightened his stance and returned to the paladins where they waited. Hunk was seated with his elbows on his knees, a bored expression to his face, with Pidge beside him sitting with her legs tossed over the arm of the chair. Lance leaned against the wall on Hunk’s other side, and the three of them looked up at Shiro as he approached.

“Any news?” Shiro asked.

Lance shook his head.

So they waited. Patients and their families passed, nurses and doctors passed, all stealing a glance of the paladins when they thought they weren’t paying attention. An hour or so dragged on like this, until finally Hunk said, “Okay, is anyone else getting a weird vibe from this place?”

No one answered. At that moment, the doctor stepped out of Keith’s room. Hunk and Pidge stood, and Shiro and Lance straightened up, and all four held their breath.

“Your friend has responded well to the treatment,” she said. Her skin was a warm red tone, her hair pink, and unlike her colleagues, she greeted them with a smile. “His wound is almost fully healed - another hour or so, and it should be like it was never there. He’s going to be just fine.”

* * *

Keith remembered pain so intense he could barely breathe, and Allura talking him through it, and then nothing. He remembered waking in a hospital room as frantic nurses injected him with unknown substances, one of which pulled him back into the haze of sleep. He remembered, moments before he slipped back into the abyss, his eyes locking on the hilt of a blade and a familiar symbol lacking its glow.

The second time he woke, the pain was gone, and the doctor was telling him he’d been healed. He only caught every other word as he struggled to pull himself out of the fog.

“Commander Kogane?” the doctor said. He saw two of her. “Did you hear me?”

Keith shook his head, sitting himself up.

“I said, you’re going to be just fine.” The doctor leaned towards him, taking his wrist in her hand and pushing up his sleeve as she checked his pulse.

Had his brain been a little less scrambled, he would have remembered sooner that Sionusians were touch telepaths capable of communicating in silence by touch alone. The ability wasn’t exclusive to their planet, but when they were invaded by the Galra ten thousand years earlier, the skill was thought to be a potential liability, a way for the Sionusians to plan rebellions without their dictators’ knowledge. The culture was forced to change; Sionusians seen without gloves in public could be arrested and forced to work in the quintessence mines. The Galra could never completely ban touch, but as a form of communication it died, and with it the people became cold and distant.

So it was a surprise to feel the doctor’s bare skin against the pulse of his wrist, and even more so when she spoke into his mind. “ _Take your friends and get out of here while you can. They know you’re here. They are coming for you._ ”

Keith gasped, reeling from the invasion of his mind, but did not move away. He met the doctor’s gaze and held it as she pulled back again, smile never wavering. “I’m going to let your friends in to see you, now. Is that alright?”

Gaze flicking between the doctor and the two nurses hanging back, still fussing over his vitals and the results of whatever tests they’d performed, Keith nodded.

“Very well,” the doctor said, and she stepped out of the room. A moment later, the four paladins barged in, nearly tripping over each other to take a spot at the foot of his bed, each with a matching hopeful, yet cautious expression.

“Hey guys,” Keith said, offering a weak smile.

A collective sigh of relief swept over them, and Pidge was the first to break away, holding her arms out to wrap him in a hug. “We were so scared, Keith.”

“You weren’t looking good at the end there, pal,” Hunk said, stepping around the other way. He leaned and observed Keith’s shoulder, as if to check if that wound had been fully healed as well, and once he was satisfied, gave it an affectionate smack. “You’ve got some color back - I mean, human color. You were kinda purple before, but like a pale purple, like a really sick grape.”

“I think what Hunk is trying to say is you look much better,” Lance said. He sat at the foot of the bed, crossing his arms with a smile of genuine relief. “How are you feeling?”

Keith glanced again towards the nurses. “I feel great.”

“That’s great, Keith,” Shiro said. Behind him, the nurses finally finished their tasks and abandoned the room.

Keith leaned to watch them go, and when he was certain they were safe said, “We gotta get out of here. Now.”

The urgency in his tone was clearly alarming. “What?” Pidge said.

“Why?” Lance said.

“I woke up while they were treating me. Only for a few seconds, but it was enough. The Knights of Daibazaal are here. I saw one of our blades on one of the nurses.”

“Wait, are you sure you weren’t just imagining it? I mean, you were really out of it when we got here, man,” Hunk said, cautious, “You were talking to yourself and everything. It was kinda scary, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Just now, the doctor told me they know I’m here and that they’re coming for me,” Keith said.

“One of the nurses mentioned to me that the people here don’t like Voltron,” Shiro said, and the others all turned their gazes on him. “He said to watch our backs.”

“We have to get out of here,” Keith said.

“Can you walk?” Hunk asked. Pidge and Lance stood, and Keith swung his legs over the side of the bed, testing them before standing.

His knee wobbled a bit, but there was no pain. It would have to do. “I’m good. Come on.”

As they maneuvered the halls, they kept Keith to the center. Whether they realized they’d formed a protective barrier around him or not, Keith wasn’t sure, but there was no time to get prideful or indignant. His gaze flicked between nurses and doctors, seeking out anymore stolen blades, but there were none to be seen. He wondered, for a moment, if he’d imagined it, if it had been a delusion egged on by his poor health.

They exited the hospital, and any doubt about what he’d seen shriveled into nonexistence. Sionusians stood in the streets, their heads angled towards the sky as dark shadows crossed their paths. Above them, a fleet of old Galra ships blocked out the sunlight and kicked up dust as they descended to the planet’s surface.

“Shit,” Keith said, “Run!”

All at once, they burst into action, sprinting along the dirt roads towards the hangar. Chaos erupted around them as people began to scream and flee, forcing them to run against the steady flow of the crowd. In the madness of it all, it would be too easy for them to be separated. As Keith looked around for them all, Pidge struggled to keep up, swept in with the crowd.

Keith skidded to a stop, nearly colliding with Shiro. “Pidge!”

“It’s a little hard to keep up when I’m shorter than _everyone else_ ,” Pidge said, weaving through the crowd to catch up with them. As she reached them, panting for breath, she pointed towards the hangar. “I think we have a problem.”

Keith spun back around in time to see the Galra fighter shoot twice. Their targets, behind the hangar, burst into flame, dark smoke rising with the explosion.

“Do you think those were our ships?” Lance said. Something in his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

“Do you want to find out?” Keith ducked to the side, towards an alley between buildings, grabbing Shiro’s elbow as he went. “Come on, we gotta find cover.”

The team followed close behind. The space between buildings was narrow, too narrow to fit two of them across comfortably. They ran single file through the maze of alleyways, keeping to the shadows. “There are caves along the cliffs,” Keith said, “Zarkon used them to mine quintessence but they’ve been here longer. If we can get to one we’ll have a place to hide out and come up with a plan.”

As if on cue, a Knight in full dress ran across the alley in front of them. They skidded to a halt, Keith stretching his arms out on instinct to keep them behind him. For a moment, it seemed the Knight had passed without noticing them.

A moment later he reappeared, locked gazes with Keith, and reached for his blade.

Unarmed and with four of the people he loved most in the world behind him, Keith’s instinct to protect kicked in. He took a step forward, drawing back his fist to land a swift punch to the Knight’s gut, swiping his arm up as the Knight lurched forward to knock the blade out of his hand. Keith curled his fingers around the Knight’s throat and threw him into the wall, and he crumpled to the ground, mask clattering to the dirt. In his peripheral vision, he saw too late a second lunging at him from behind -

\- and a blinding blue hand blocking the attack. Shiro parried the blade with his metal arm, punching the Knight square on the temple with the other. He fell, and Shiro looked to Keith with a nod. “I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks,” Keith said. He crouched and gathered the two blades, holding one out to Lance. “You know how to use a sword, right?”

Lance told him once about the red bayard transforming into an Altean broadsword, but uncertainty crossed his features as he took the weapon. “It’s been a while, but I’ll make do.”

“Great. If these two are any indication, they’ve sent scouts after us.” Keith stood, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “Come on.”

The alleys sprawled between buildings in a confusing stretch of twists and turns, but inevitably they reached where the city met the cliffside. Old, rusting stairs climbed up along the backs of the buildings to a platform at the mouth of a cave. They rattled and creaked under their steps as they climbed to the top, one after the other until each paladin was out of sight. Keith stayed at the cave’s opening a moment longer, watching as overhead a Galra cruiser blocked out the stretch of sky between the cliffside and the buildings.

Behind him, Shiro lit the cave with the glow of his hand, giving off a gentle blue tint. Keith turned to join the others. “These caves go on for miles. They were used for mining, but they're ancient. There’s openings everywhere. The Sionusians used the different tunnels to escape punishment from the Galra during Zarkon's reign. They say the city is mapped after them."

"That explains a lot," Pidge said dryly. 

"I know an exit the Knights probably won’t know about,” Keith said, "Come on, follow me." 

“You sure know a lot about this place,” Lance said.

“It’s my job to know about the places I’m supposed to protect.” Keith frowned, worrying his lip between his teeth. "They'll check here once they realize we're not in the city anymore. Hiding out in here can only be a temporary solution, but it should buy us enough time to come up with a plan." 

“Yeah, about that,” Hunk said, “I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s a few dozen ships out there and five of us.”

“We’re way outnumbered here, Keith,” Pidge said, “I’m not saying we should give ourselves up, but our options here might be limited.”

It was the truth, and Keith knew it. Without their ships, they couldn’t escape. Two of them were unarmed, which made fighting back against so many enemies an even greater challenge. They could steal a ship, but Galra fighters weren’t designed to hold many people, and the more ships they needed to steal, the more opportunities there were to fail. 

But Keith never learned how to give up. “We just need to take some time to think about it. Let’s keep walking.”

They moved deeper into the cave, the light of Shiro’s arm gleaming on the walls. A faint dripping echoed from somewhere, the kind of constant, repetitive sound that could drive a person insane from focusing on it too long.

“I wonder what happened to the Blades who were supposed to be here,” Hunk said, Keith suspected just for the sake of saying something. “I hope they’re okay.”

“The Knights haven’t shown much mercy in the past,” Keith said, voice bleak.

“You’ve had a lot of dealings with them?” Concern edged its way into Shiro’s tone. “They don’t talk about it a lot on the news.”

“Earth is so far from the Neutral Zone, I doubt they’re viewed as much of a threat. They only just attempted to attack a Coalition planet about a month ago.”

“Keith’s right,” Pidge said, “The only reason I know as much as I do about the Knights is because I still work with the Garrison, and I don’t know that much. They’ve barely been talking about these guys at all back home.”

“The first I heard of them was when they said on the news that you'd died,” Lance said.

Keith jolted to a stop. He spun on his heel, staring at Lance with huge eyes. “What?”

The four of them shared a look. “The universe thinks you’re dead, Keith,” Shiro finally said, as gently as he could. “When your ship was destroyed, the Blade of Marmora analyzed the situation and determined there was no way you could’ve survived.”

“Which, to be fair, we still don’t actually know how you did,” Lance said.

It wasn’t really a surprise. He’d expected as much, yet to have it confirmed only deepened the feelings of guilt. But to show it on the news all the way on Earth - he couldn’t possibly be that important. “Was my mom okay?”

The look of apprehension that crossed Shiro’s face confirmed his fears. Shiro reached out, settled his human hand on Keith’s shoulder and managed to say, in a steady voice, “She’ll be glad to have you home.”

Keith frowned. He had assumed, in that moment when Shiro swooped to his aid, that the tracker on his suit was still functional, or that his transmissions had managed to reach them but none could be returned, but if the Blades believed he’d died, something else must have led them to him. “How did you find me?”

“Remember what we were talking about on the way here? I said we all had a vision of you,” Lance said.

“We saw you survive the explosion,” Pidge said.

“And we saw you on Coth Z1. Well,” Hunk said, scratching his chin in thought, “We all saw you on an ice planet. Shiro recognized it as Coth Z1. Which is lucky; if he hadn’t had that vision when he did we probably wouldn’t have made it there in time.”

“I saw you by a crashed Galra pod,” Shiro said. His grip tightened on Keith’s shoulder. “And outside the base.”

Keith’s eyes widened. “I saw _you_ after I crashed, and outside the base.”

“Whoa,” Hunk said. The same stunned expression crossed each of their faces. “No way.”

“I thought I was hallucinating,” Keith said, turning to face Shiro more fully. “I would’ve frozen to death out there if it wasn’t for you and -” Stopping himself, he looked down and away. Shiro was watching him with a gaze too kind, too soft to meet.

“Me and…?” he asked, leaning a bit in an effort to catch Keith’s eye.

“Allura spoke to you,” Lance said, “Didn’t she?”

“Wait, what?” Pidge said, “What about Allura?”

When Keith didn’t speak, Shiro said, “Keith?”

Finally, Keith looked up at them again. “It’s a long story, and we should keep moving. I’ll explain everything on the way.”

They continued their trek through the cave, and all the while Keith recounted almost the entire story, from learning of his Altean heritage from his great-grandfather to his crash landing on Coth Z1. He told them how Allura was able to contact him in the infinite void, and how she kept saving his life through their connection.

He glossed over the fight at the clone facility. He didn’t mention the clones, or the druid’s transformation and taunts, at all.

“I don’t really know how long I was at the base for,” he said, climbing up a steep slant. “Probably only a day or so. I think I was asleep for a long time. Then the Knights showed up, and then that _thing_ showed up, and then _you_ showed up.” He turned as he reached the top, offering his hand to help the others up. “And now we’re here.”

“So, just a regular day on the job, huh?” Shiro’s tone was dry as Keith assisted him. It was the way with him, when he couldn’t quite find the best words to comfort, to turn to humor. It had been so long since Keith last heard it that it was almost startling.

More startling was how grateful he was. Years of his closest friends and family treating him like his emotional state was a cracked glass, breaths away from shattering, had gotten him too accustomed to unwelcome pity. It was a shock of relief to be handled like he wouldn’t break. “Pretty much.”

Shiro settled into the space beside him and said nothing else, only rubbed a hand across his shoulders, soothing in a way he hadn’t felt in years. With his other arm, he helped pull the others up until they’d all made the climb.

“But you didn’t see any lion drawings, huh?” Pidge said, sounding almost disappointed.

“Nope,” Keith said, “I don’t even know where I could’ve seen some. Maybe in the base somewhere? But I walked through that whole place. I would’ve seen glowing drawings on the walls.”

“That’s so… weird,” Pidge said, rubbing her chin. “Especially since we _all_ saw them. And you mentioned everything else we saw. Everything happened, except that.”

“Did you at least find what you were looking for?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah,” Keith said. Ahead of them, the cave opened out from a hole in the ground, light streaming in between patches of tall grass. He shifted a bit of the grass to the side like a curtain to peek around. Outside, the cruiser hovered over the planet, a looming, threatening presence. Half a dozen Galra fighters had landed on the cliff just outside the cave, though their pilots stared over the edge at the city below, blissfully unaware of their targets’ hiding place. “But I can talk about that later. Ideas, anyone?”

“We could try stealing a couple of their fighters,” Lance said.

“But if they could control Keith’s escape pod from the cruiser, they can probably control the fighters, too,” Shiro reminded him.

“If we could get to the cruiser, I bet I could figure out how to disable that function,” Pidge said, “But we’d still have to get up there without getting noticed.”

“We could probably get away with only two of us getting up there,” Hunk said, “Like, if you and Keith went, disabled the controls, grabbed a bigger ship and brought it back here.”

Shiro noticeably bristled at his name. Keith wondered if it was the plan he disliked, or the thought of being apart again, so soon. His hand shifted at his side, the light shining over the wall beside him.

Pidge said something that Keith didn’t catch. “Shiro, move your arm back,” he said.

They looked at him. “What?”

Keith stepped over to him, taking his metal arm by the wrist and angling it. Something shined under a veil of moss. Brow furrowed, Keith crouched down, swiping the moss away as the others leaned around him to see.

Underneath, the shape of a lion and a woman had been carved into the rock.

Keith looked at them over his shoulder. “Is this what you saw?”

“I - I think so,” Shiro said, astonished.

“Except, they were glowing,” Hunk said, “But, y’know, details.”

“Well, let’s see…” Lifting his hand, Keith’s fingertips barely touched the cold stone surface before the white light appeared, and the cave gave way to visions of fire. Keith gasped as the wall became red hot under his touch, losing his balance and falling backward. Shiro caught him, and as they stared, the moss fell away from the rest of the wall, revealing more drawings of more lions. The glow built until it was blinding, and Keith had to raise a hand to block out the light, turning his face into Shiro’s shoulder.

Images flashed in the dark space behind his eyelids. First it was the flames, and then it was Voltron, disbanding into the individual Lions flying in different directions. They disappeared and were replaced by the White Lion, the Guardian of Oriand, bellowing a powerful roar. Behind him stood Allura.

And the image changed again, to a softer one, one Keith couldn't quite reach. The paladins were on the steps of Oriand, gathered in a group around Allura, holding each other and crying. She cradled something in her arms that Keith couldn’t see, blocked by the others.

Keith wasn’t there.

The Quantum Abyss had prepared him for a hundred horrifying moments, some that had already occurred and some that he was still awaiting. His absence in the vision was more worrying than any of them.

Why wasn't he there? 

They returned to themselves in the cave, all at once, with a gasp.

“Whoa,” Hunk said, “I feel weird. Does anyone else feel weird?”

Shiro helped Keith right himself. “Keith, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Keith lied. He looked towards the mouth of the cave. “There’s no way they didn’t see that.”

He could practically see the cogs whirring in Pidge’s mind. “Okay, okay, I bet I can set up a trap-”

“I’m gonna go out there,” Keith said, flipping his blade around in his hand. He took a step forward, but Shiro caught his elbow.

“Keith, we’re outgunned here.” Soft brown eyes pled with him. “Are you sure about this?”

“We can keep running through the caves all we want, but they’re not just gonna give up on finding us. This was only supposed to be a temporary solution; the only way out of this is to fight.”

Shiro nodded. “Then I’m coming with you.”

“Me, too,” Lance said, gripping the blade Keith had given him.

“We’ll figure something out,” Pidge said with a grin, motioning to herself and Hunk, both unarmed. “We’ve gotten out of fights weaponless before, we can do it again.”

“But maybe you could toss us a sword if you get one,” Hunk said, “Just in case.”

Keith nodded, lips curled up. “You got it.”

And with that, they burst into the open.

The Knights had been alerted by the light, but hadn’t quite found the cave by the time the paladins emerged, weapons at the ready. And at first, it seemed possible that they might win. The surprise left the Knights unprepared for their attack, and they fell back and couldn’t quite regain their footing right away.

But the paladins were outnumbered, and for every Knight they knocked down, another was there in moments to take their place. Other fighters took notice of the battle and landed on the cliff, adding to their numbers while the paladins’ ability to keep up wavered. Keith glanced once to check on his teammates, but his opponent barely gave him a moment to look, swiping blades too close for comfort.

It was exhausting. It was endless.

As if to mock him for his efforts, as soon as he fought back the two Knights who’d taken him on, a Galra man twice his size rushed him from the side and knocked him flat on his back, sending his blade clattering across the dirt.

“Keith!” he heard Shiro shout, and looked up in time to see him attempt to break through the group he was fighting, but they had him cornered.

The image of the Knight’s boots stepping closer to him came into focus. “They said you were as good as dead. You don’t look dead to me.”

A bit disoriented, Keith forced himself to his feet, only to be knocked down again, the air flying from his lungs. Before he could think about standing, the Knight grabbed a handful of his hair and forced him up. Keith screamed in pain, hands scrambling to pull him off, and was met with a hard fist to the cheek. No longer held up, he crumpled into a heap.

A copper taste filled his mouth, and Keith hacked a wet cough, blood splattering in the dirt. He rolled onto his hands and knees, but the Knight’s boot struck his ribs with a _crack_ and he fell again.

“ _Keith!_ ” Desperation edged into Shiro’s voice, but he was still so far away, and there were too many Knights between them. They’d gathered in a crowd just to watch the struggle between Keith and his opponent, and though their faces were masked he could imagine their glee at the sight. They were traditionalists, and he was the one responsible for the transition of the Galra empire into everything they hated. They believed they were watching the defeat of one of their greatest enemies.

But Keith could take a beating, and he never did learn how to give up.

As the Knight had his back turned to gloat over his victory, Keith dragged himself to his feet and raised his fists. The crowd’s whispers alerted his opponent, and he spun back around.

Keith spat out blood and wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, leaving a red streak over his skin. “That all you got?”

“You should have stayed dead,” the Knight said, and lunged forward.

Keith ducked under his arm and landed a hard punch to his gut. When he doubled over, Keith brought his elbow down onto his back, knocking him onto his stomach. But before he could celebrate, the Knight grabbed him by the leg and threw him down, and it became a mad scramble as Keith attempted to get away and the Knight crawled over him, curling a fist into the front of his hoodie and hitting him over and over.

Suddenly there were screams, and over them Keith distinctly heard Pidge’s voice yelling, “Guys, look!”

“Huh?” the Knight said, pausing his assault long enough to look over his shoulder and be promptly pushed off of Keith by a large mechanical snout.

Above him, the Red Lion planted its feet into the ground, tail swinging as it lifted its head to roar.

In a daze, Keith could only stare up in wonder. “Good kitty.”

Vaguely, he was aware of the paladins cheering around him. As Keith struggled to sit up, the other four Lions came into view, as did the Knights as they fled to their ships. They weren’t running away, but they knew whatever fight was about to ensue they could no longer win on foot.

With Voltron’s arrival, the paladins finally stood a chance.

Strong hands hooked under Keith’s arms and lifted him back to his feet. Keith looked around to see Shiro staring up at Red in breathless wonder. Lance stood to his side, and Hunk and Pidge the other.

“They came back,” Lance said, amazed.

“They knew we needed them,” Keith said with a grin. He stepped forward, and Red leaned down to let him in.

“Keith, wait,” Shiro said.

Keith turned, brow raised in confusion. “What is it?”

“You’re…” Conflict crossed Shiro’s face. “You’re the Black Paladin.”

“Shiro,” Keith said, “Black didn’t come to me.”

The four of them smiled as Shiro realized. It was endearing in a way - that it had been so long since Shiro, the _real_ Shiro, had been a paladin that he didn’t even consider one of the Lions was there for him, let alone Black.

 _But of course_ , Keith thought. No one else deserved it more.

“Welcome back, Team Leader,” Lance said, smacking Shiro’s shoulder before running to Blue. “Oh, Blue, I missed you!”

Pidge and Hunk each ran to their own Lions, but Shiro stayed there a moment longer, staring at Keith like he still couldn’t quite believe all this was real.

“What are you waiting for?” Keith asked, with a hint of laughter. “You’re a paladin again. Go.”

Keith had never seen Shiro smile so bright. Despite all his encouragement when they were younger, and when Voltron was still a new development in their lives, Keith never doubted that Shiro was meant to be the paladin of the Black Lion; there were very few things he'd ever wanted more. Shiro opened his mouth as if to say something, shook his head and hurried off to Black. Alone at last, Keith stepped into Red and ran to the cockpit.

Everything looked exactly as he remembered. For a moment he allowed himself to take it all in, brushing his fingertips over the back of the pilot’s seat, wiping dust from the controls. When he sat, the screens came to life, the chair sliding forward for him to reach. The engines almost seemed to hum, like a purr.

“I missed you, too, buddy,” Keith said, petting the controls like he would the space wolf.

Over the radio, Shiro’s voice cut through with perfect clarity. “Sound off, team. Do we have everyone?”

“Yellow is good,” Hunk said.

“So is green!”

“Blue is ready to go!”

“Red’s all set,” Keith said.

“Black is a go,” Shiro said, and Keith could hear his grin. “Alright team. Let’s show these guys what we’re made of.”

* * *

Krolia had barely slept in days.

Kolivan worried, she knew. But he didn’t dare speak a word to her of it, not while he was suffering through his own grief in silence.

There was no word from Shiro and the others. They should have reached Coth Z1 by then, they should have checked in with the Blades, they should have news. But there was nothing. Nothing.

A knock sounded at the door to her office. “Come in,” she said, voice weak.

Kreil stepped half inside. “Excuse me, there’s a Blade to see you from the Neutral Zone. He says it’s urgent.”

“Send him in,” Krolia said.

Moving to the side, Kreil allowed the man to step in, hands locked behind him. Krolia didn’t recognize him, but it had been some time since she’d been involved in the Blade of Marmora’s everyday business. There were hundreds of recruits and volunteers spread throughout the universe she wouldn’t have recognized.

“Pardon my intrusion,” the man said, voice deep. “I come with troubling news.”

Cautious, he shifted his hands in front of him, revealing the object he’d hidden behind his back.

It was Keith’s blade.

Krolia was out of her seat in seconds. “Where did you get this?”

“Forgive me,” he said, “I am Lieutenant Sek. I was stationed in the planet Sionus, in the Neutral Zone when the Knights of Daibazaal attacked us. They invaded, overwhelmed us, took all of our weapons. I am the only one to survive, but I saw one of them with this blade and - well, I think anyone would know who this belonged to.” He held it out for her to take.

Krolia curled her fingers around the blade’s hilt. As she watched, the light flickered, and relief overcame her.

Kolivan rushed to stand by her side, caressing the blade with gentle, disbelieving fingers. “He’s alive.”

“I believe the Knights have him and are planning something,” Sek said, “They are more dangerous than they appear. They have conquered planets. They carry the blades of hundreds of our fallen brethren. And who knows what they plan to do with Commander Kogane. They must be stopped.”

“We have a team out in the Neutral Zone specifically to bring Keith back safely, Lieutenant,” Krolia said, her grip tightening. “When they have returned, we may determine what is to be done about the Knights of Daibazaal.”

“Ma’am,” Kreil said, popping his head back into the office, “You have an incoming message from the control room.”

“And that may be them right now,” Krolia said, as Kolivan moved to answer the hail. “Thank you, Kreil.”

“Krolia,” Kolivan said, face dire, “The ship we lent to Shiro - it’s been destroyed.”

Krolia’s eyes widened. “What? Where were they?”

Kolivan frowned. “Sionus.”

“The planet has become a stronghold,” Sek said with a sense of urgency, “We must send our best forces there immediately to save the Commander and to stop the Knights once and for all.”

“We cannot act without the Coalition’s backing, Krolia,” Kolivan said.

“We have had two ships destroyed just this movement. We did not start this war,” Krolia said, “The Coalition will have to catch up to us.”

It was foolish, and Krolia knew it. They were short on elite teams, with Acxa’s mission so far away and many of their trained members stationed in the Neutral Zone. Taking what was left would leave Daibazaal vulnerable.

But she was blinded by her love for her son and the desperate need to bring him home. The Knights had been beaten within the Coalition once before, and she convinced herself that they wouldn’t dare to return so soon, especially not to Daibazaal, a Coalition stronghold and home to the universe’s most effective force of elite warriors. They wouldn’t dare.

“Assemble a team,” Krolia said, “We must leave immediately.”

It did not occur to her at the time why it was so strange that, at that moment, Sek smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: the paladins embark on a space road trip to save the universe.


	5. clarity

**Chapter 5**

_Walk on through a red parade and refuse to make amends_   
_It cuts deep through our ground and makes us forget all common sense_   
_Don't speak as I try to leave, 'cause we both know what we'll choose_   
_If you pull, then I'll push too deep and I'll fall right back to you_

"Clarity" by Zedd, Foxes

* * *

The news of Keith’s tragic and untimely death reached Altea at almost the same time as Earth, and for the life of him, Coran could not understand why none of the former paladins were returning his calls.

During the first quintant, he chalked it up to a need for privacy. They were Keith’s closest companions; if they needed time to come to terms with this news, then Coran could respect that. Another couple of quintants and he began to worry. Surely what they needed was to spend time with others who shared and understood their grief.

Altea was hosting a traditional farewell ceremony in Keith’s honor. They ought to be there.

Coran’s office in the new Altean palace - no longer the home of a monarchy, but the headquarters for the planet’s republic - was lined across the walls with shelves fulls of books, knick knacks from across the universe, pictures and greeting cards from loved ones and intergalactic diplomats. Seated at his desk, Coran cradled a projector frame in the palm of his hand. It displayed a photo of the five paladins in their color coded Garrison uniforms.

Two of them gone, too soon. The world never ceased its cruelties.

There was a light rap on his door, and as Coran looked up from his distractions, in walked Romelle dressed in a lovely, mournful pink.

“Romelle!” he greeted, standing to step around his desk with his arms open. She wasted no time running to him, and for a long moment they only stood in the center of his office with their arms wrapped around one another. “It’s good to see you. I was starting to think none of the old team was going to make it.”

“Coran,” she said, pulling back, “I would have called, but my communicator has been malfunctioning when it comes to interplanetary communications. Hunk and the others, they have all run off to Daibazaal.”

“They have?” Coran said, “They could have said something! I’ve been trying to contact everyone for days!”

“Hunk said he saw a vision of Keith, that _all_ of the paladins saw it.” Her grip on Coran’s elbows tightened. “Coran, they believe Keith may still be alive. But I haven’t heard anything from Hunk since they left.”

It was a lot of information to take in at once. Coran ushered her into the chair opposite his desk and sank into his own across from her. “They believe Keith is alive?”

“Yes, Hunk said so.” The pair of them had been rooming together since Romelle joined Hunk’s cooking business. “He was gone early in the morning and hasn’t returned any of my messages. I’m not sure he’s even gotten them.”

Coran frowned, glancing at his own communicator. “Perhaps... the satellites are malfunctioning.”

“We must contact the Blade of Marmora,” Romelle said, “They must know _something_ by now.”

“I’ll try on my work communicator. The signal is stronger.” Attached to the wall was a screen angled towards Corans desk. He raised his voice to a shout, causing Romelle to jump. “Computer! Call Krolia!”

“Calling Krolia,” the computer responded, sound waves rolling across the screen as it rang.

Romelle was still clutching her chest. “You don’t need to _yell_ , Coran.”

“How else will the computer understand my authority?” Coran said, baffled. The screen changed to show Krolia on the other end, though the image was grainier than it should have been, and when she greeted him, the sound crackled with interference.

“Coran,” she said, “I’m glad you called. I could use your assistance.”

“Does this have anything to do with the paladins?” Coran asked, hesitant to mention Keith by name.

“It does,” Krolia said, her face glitching on the screen. “Keith is alive.”

Romelle leaped out of her seat in her joy, clasping her hands together. “Thank the ancients!”

“How do you know?” Coran said, stunned.

“Every Blade’s life force is connected to their weapon. Keith’s still glows. But he’s still missing, as are the paladins.” The screen glitched again, and when it unfroze after a few ticks, she had already been talking. “ - get him back.”

“Krolia, you’re cutting out-” Coran said, but she continued to glitch, her image distorting and her voice crackling beyond comprehension. Once or twice he could make out his own name as she questioned whether he could hear her, but nothing beyond that. “Krolia, can you hear me? Krolia!”

“-have t- -o Cora-, - contact - if - -ything -”

A severe glitch ended the conversation entirely, the screen splitting through the center with one half of Krolia’s face several inches higher than the other and then shutting down altogether, with only the Altean words for “no signal” written in white glyphs left behind.

Frozen in horrified confusion, neither Coran nor Romelle could find words for a long few ticks. When at last she could turn to at least face him, Coran set his hands flat on the desk and pushed himself from his seat.

“Well,” he said, adjusting the collar of his pink shirt. “Fancy taking a trip to Daibazaal today, Romelle?”

* * *

The return of the Lions prompted a swift retreat.

One by one, the paladins picked off the fighters brave - or foolish - enough to attempt an attack, but their goal was not to destroy, but to drive them away from the planet altogether. The cruiser opened a massive wormhole in the sky, and the remaining fighters were quick to escape through it.

When it came down to it, Shiro ordered them to fall back. Without knowing where the wormhole would lead them, they could end up on the other side of the galaxy, or in the midst of a battle they wouldn’t be able to win.

They accomplished what they wanted to. The planet was free; they could figure out their next steps on the ground.

At the surface, the people waited to greet them with thunderous applause. As the paladins stepped out of their Lions, groups of curious Sionusians observed the Lions, thanked their pilots and asked for pictures.

It was the sort of thing that had always made Shiro feel a little out of place, but he smiled anyway. Once or twice he glanced at the other paladins; Pidge was making enthusiastic gestures as she spoke to a group of young girls about the Lions, Hunk was posing for selfies. Lance, though he’d calmed down over the years, seemed to be enjoying the attention as much as ever. And Keith -

Keith had once been the one of them to keep off to the side during these types of celebrations, feeling as awkward about it as Shiro did, but now he was a natural. Even bruised and battered with blood crusted on his face, children flocked to him for pictures. As Shiro watched, he crouched to pose with a dozen or so young Sionusians in front of the Red Lion, laughing as they crowded to be near him.

Shiro was almost tempted to walk over and ask the kids not to be so rough when Keith still had injuries to tend to, but Keith seemed so at ease that Shiro felt more calm just by watching him.

When the crowds dwindled an older Sionusian man called Hanu, a leader among them, brought the paladins to his home to rest and eat. Two nurses joined them in order to tend to their wounds.

Keith’s were the worst, but he was more interested in the food. He sat to Shiro’s side around a wooden table as they were served bowls of noodles covered in a brown broth. The room was lit by an artificial flame that hovered above the center of the table, setting a warm glow when Pidge emerged from outside, mouth a frustrated line.

“What’s wrong, Pidge?” Shiro asked, wary.

“I ran a diagnostics check on the Lions,” she said, taking a seat beside him. To his other side, Keith was too busy devouring his second bowl of food to pay her much mind. “There’s nothing _wrong_ with them exactly, but it’s been so long since we’ve seen them and I… forgot how much we’ve improved personal transport.”

“What do you mean?” Lance said around a mouthful.

“Well, my dad, Matt, and I put a lot of work into improving our ships to enhance speed and ease of travel. Our tech has been getting better and better ever since we started to integrate with tech from other planets.” She propped her chin on her hand with a pout. “But the Lions stayed the same. We’ve kind of… surpassed them.”

“Well, I guess it was bound to happen,” Hunk said with a shrug, “I mean, the tech in the Lions is over ten thousand years old. I can’t go a year without needing an upgraded datapad.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” Pidge said in an effort to be reassuring, “But it’ll be a little like when we were traveling back to Earth after our battle with Lotor. The Lions will need to rest after a long day of travel. They don’t have personal wormhole tech… it’s gonna be a few days before we can get back to the Coalition.”

“Space road trip!” In excitement, Hunk pumped his fist into the air. He leaned towards Lance, their shoulders bumping. “I’m not gonna lie man, I really enjoyed the last one. I mean, y’know, minus the battles and getting captured and stuff. But stopping at so many planets was _way_ cool.”

“I don’t suppose you have a way to contact the Coalition,” Keith said, voice small. As Shiro looked at him to his side, Keith settled his spoon in the now empty bowl, shoulders hunched. “The ships we took to get here were destroyed, which means the Blade of Marmora will know something happened here. And I should probably let my family know that I’m not dead.”

“Our Galra invaders made it impossible to communicate with other planets,” Hanu said, not without bitterness. “Their satellites are strategically placed throughout the Neutral Zone. No one is able to contact anyone, especially not the Coalition.”

“How long has this been going on?” Keith asked, setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. “I was visiting border planets maybe a phoeb or so ago, and none of this was happening then.”

“The invasion began three movements ago. The Knights came disguised as Blades and stirred dissent against the Coalition, and against _you_.” Hanu’s disappointment was etched into every line of his face. “It was an easy thing to accomplish here. Our society is not fond of Voltron.”

“Why is that?” Lance asked. “Just curious.”

“Thousands of years ago, Voltron promised to protect the universe. Then Voltron vanished and the Galra invaded.” Hanu closed his eyes, wiping a hand over his mouth in contemplation. “Our planet’s history was barely salvaged over the years, but according to the few records we still have, Sionus used to be green and lush, with high concentrations of quintessence. They say it is why our people have the ability that we do.”

“Ability?” Hunk asked.

“We are touch telepaths,” Hanu said. “A certain amount of exposure to quintessence can give people special abilities. The Alteans became highly sensitive to it and gained the ability to control it through the use of alchemy. Here, we gained the ability to communicate entirely through touch. The Galra considered it a threat to their invasion, believing we would plan revolutions without their knowledge, and forced our entire society to change. We believe that the people of ten thousand years ago held out faith that Voltron would save them, but over time as our planet was drained, and the generations that remembered a time before the invasion died out, faith turned to bitterness. The Galra eventually scattered when their empire fell to shambles, and their generals grabbed as much territory as they could. Voltron never came here to protect us, only the Blades arrived to offer their help after the fact. By then, our planet had been reduced to a near wasteland. So you understand, it is all too easy for my people to blame Voltron for the hardships we have faced.”

“Well, we can assure you, Voltron will keep your planet safe from here on out,” Shiro said. From the corner of his eye, he could see Keith duck his head.

“I thank you, sir, truly,” Hanu said. “I’ll leave you all to your meal, and I’ll see that you have some food to take with you on your journey back to the Coalition.”

The paladins gave a chorus of ‘thank you’s as he left, and Shiro leaned toward Keith. “Everything alright?”

He looked at Shiro in surprise. “Fine, just - thinking about my Mom. I wish I could let her know I’m okay, especially if it’s gonna be a few more days before we can get back to Daibazaal.”

“Keith, it’s gonna be a few days before we can get back to the _Coalition_. It’ll probably take an extra day to get to Daibazaal without a wormhole.” Pidge reached to straighten her glasses, realized she wasn’t wearing them, and attempted to hide the habit by scratching her nose. “Unless we can get someone to set up a wormhole for us, but the ones made for most ships these days won’t be big enough to get us all through.”

“We could call up the Garrison,” Shiro said, “Get the Atlas.”

“We’re gonna need to do that anyway,” Keith said, “For when we go to get Allura.”

“Oh, man,” Hunk said, “If we’re recruiting the Atlas for this, I’m guessing it’s not gonna be as easy as flying into an inter-reality rift and pulling her out, huh?”

“No.” Keith wouldn’t meet any of their eyes. “The information I was able to find on Honerva’s plans was minimal when it comes to alternate realities, but there’s a few things that were useful. Every single reality exists because of the forces within the rifts, particularly the quintessence. We all pretty much knew that, but what we didn’t know was that there just aren’t any power sources strong enough to keep it all sustained that don’t come from within the rift itself.”

“But Honerva went with Allura,” Lance said, “So if she knew that-”

“I don’t think she knew for certain. I think she was testing a theory that they would be able to manage it, and it’s failing. And now that we _know_ it’s failing, we know that the power source has to be something that came from within.”

Exasperated, Lance huffed. “ _How_ are we gonna find a power source in the inter-reality rift, Keith?”

“We don’t have to find one,” Keith said. “We already have five.”

He was met with four sets of eyes staring back at him in astonishment, and a wall of silence. None of the paladins could manage a word, for what felt like far too long. The quiet was agonizing; without knowing what he wanted to say, but knowing he needed someone to say something, Shiro said, “Keith…”

“We _just_ got the Lions back,” Lance said, “And we already had to fight off some bad guys. Is that even a safe idea right now?”

“Since we’ve taken influences from Galra, Altean, and Olkari technology, our own tech has long surpassed the Lions. Weapons wise, we have the Atlas. The MFEs are constantly being upgraded. Personal vehicles are moving between planets faster than we could’ve dreamed of ten years ago, and that’s with _and_ without wormhole tech.” Keith avoided eye contact, rubbing his temple as he spoke. “We might not like to admit it, but the Lions are essentially obsolete.”

“He isn’t wrong about that,” Pidge said, “Plus, with the Lions needing time to recharge every night, one of our Garrison ships would’ve gotten us back to the Coalition faster. We’ve taken huge strides in energy efficiency and the Lions can’t keep up.”

“Yeah, but… they’re our Lions,” Hunk said, frowning. “We’re connected to them. They aren’t just machines, they - they’ve got little minds of their own, y’know?”

“I don’t like this much either, guys,” Keith said, “But the Lions were designed to fulfill one purpose - to defend the universe. They left us because they weren’t doing that anymore. The universe needs them again, and they came back. They’re made from a trans-reality comet, so they’ll survive the journey and be powerful enough to sustain all realities. This is the best solution we have to save Allura.”

“How do we even do that?” Lance said, “We destroyed Honerva’s gate through the realities.”

Keith bit his lip, wringing his wrist in a nervous gesture only Shiro seemed to pick up on. “Yeah, I… I’m still working on that part. It’s not safe to recreate it, obviously. Any of the naturally occuring rifts would take us to one alternate reality, not the center of them all. I want to ask Allura, but I still don’t fully understand how to reach out to her...”

“Wait, so that’s all you know? That’s all we have to go off of?” Lance gestured wildly at the air around him as if to indicate all of existence itself. “Can’t you do some Altean alchemy magicky jumbo to try to get a little more information before we throw all of our Lions in one basket?”

“The expression is eggs,” Pidge said, tone flat.

Keith’s brow furrowed, radiating annoyance. “Do I look like an Altean alchemist to you?”

“You’re the one coming up with all the ideas!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Keith leaned forward. “Lance, I’m gonna be very clear with you about this: I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

“Shiro,” Pidge said, “You’ve been awfully silent.”

They all turned to look at him. Even Keith, who had been avoiding everyone’s gazes up until that point, found it in him to meet Shiro’s eyes. There was conflict in his violet hues, and emotions Shiro wasn’t able to read. “I’m not sure what I can say. I don’t disagree with anything that’s been said. Giving up the Lions now, when the Knights are causing so many issues, could be dangerous - but we may not have another option in terms of rescuing Allura. Now that Keith is safe, she is our top priority.”

“I’m not arguing against that,” Lance said, “I want her back more than _anything_. I’m just worried that taking Voltron out of the equation permanently might put us in a vulnerable position.”

Keith turned his eyes away again. “I don’t know of another option, Lance, but this - I feel confident about this. I just know that this is what we have to do. That this is what we were _supposed_ to do the first time.”

“It’ll be awful saying goodbye to the Yellow Lion,” Hunk said, “But if it’s what it takes to get Allura back? Worth it.”

“This is our chance to fix our mistakes. We were a team and we never should have let her go off on her own. _I_ never should’ve -” Keith’s voice was rough, and it broke just barely, the way it did when his emotions were getting the better of him. He frowned to himself, pausing long enough to calm down, and in that instant Shiro finally understood; this was guilt.

“She’s weak and getting weaker,” he said, voice steady once again with obvious effort. “We might only get one shot at this. We have to take it.”

“Keith, if you say this is the only way, then I'm with you,” Lance said. "We'll figure out another way to beat the Knights." 

"Shiro?" Pidge said. 

“I agree with Keith,” Shiro said, “But we also have a few days before we can get to the Coalition and start figuring out next steps. So I think in the meantime, if we run into any trouble, we take it down. As long as we _have_ Voltron, we should continue to fight for the good of the universe.”

“So it’s agreed,” Pidge said, arms crossed over her chest. “We’re giving up the Lions.”

A beat of silence passed between them as it sunk in. The Lions had changed all of their lives. Voltron brought them together as a team, as a family. It wouldn’t be easy to part ways, but for Allura they were all prepared for the cost.

Voltron gave Shiro his family, and he let them slip away. If this was what it took to fix everything, then the decision was easy, even if the goodbye wouldn’t be.

Hunk stood up abruptly. “I think I need to go spend some time with Yellow.”

He was already halfway out the door when Pidge leaped from her own seat and said, “I gotta go tell Green I love her.”

Lance glanced between Keith and Shiro and stood, stretching his arms with a forced yawn. “Well, I’m beat. See you guys in the morning.”

“Good night, Lance,” Shiro said.

“Night, Shiro.” And with that, Keith and Shiro were alone.

The events of the past several days had taken a serious toll. Aside from the new scars along his throat and on his brow, he had deep shadows under his eyes. Blood had crusted under wounds from his fist fight with the Knight on the cliff, and though his bruises were already fading thanks to the medication the nurses had given him, they were still striking against his pale skin. His hair was greasy and he struggled to hold himself upright, leaning instead with his elbows on the table and his head propped in a hand.

“Thanks for having my back there,” he said after a few beats of silence.

“Of all of us here, you’re the one with the best understanding of what’s happening. I trust your input,” Shiro said.

Keith huffed a humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t say ‘understanding.’ It’s more of a hunch. I’m still not a hundred percent sure it’s not all in my head.”

Shiro set his hand on Keith’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Well for what it’s worth, I believe in you.”

Jaw tight, Keith looked away. “Thanks.”

Drawing his hand back, Shiro searched Keith’s expression. He was hurting, and that was reasonable; the past week could probably qualify as one of the worst in his life, or at least the most exhausting. Shiro knew it was for _him_.

But that wasn't the only thing Keith was hurting over. 

Shiro's touch had always been able to soothe some of Keith’s anxiety and hurt away, but now it seemed unwanted. It was only a matter of time before everything that had happened caught up to them, but Shiro would have given anything for a few more minutes with him. He was almost afraid to ask, “Is everything alright, Keith?”

Keith’s eyes fluttered shut, and he turned his head down, heaving a sigh. “I don’t know anymore. I don’t think so, but I’m so… beyond the ability to be upset about it.”

“You’ve had a hard week.” That was an understatement. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“God, no.” Keith huffed a laugh, wiping a hand over his face. “I don’t even want to think about it. I just want all this to be over. I want to go home.”

“You’ll be home soon.” Shiro kept his voice calm and gentle. If he couldn’t touch, at least he could be a comfort in this way. “And once we get Allura back, you can stay home as long as you need to. Give yourself a break. You deserve it.”

To Shiro’s dismay, Keith seemed entirely unconvinced. Resignation settled into his features, as though accepting some terrible truth that he couldn’t escape. “Maybe,” he said, noncommittal.

“Maybe I can finally come visit the house?” Shiro said, letting his hope slip into his tone.

Keith turned to look at him. The flames cast a low, amber glow that gleamed in his eyes. Keith’s eyes had always been piercing in a way that defied explanation. They saw things within Shiro that he couldn’t see himself, yet they never conveyed more than an earnest curiosity. Shiro never understood how a man’s eyes could strip him of every inhibition until he was left bare, with every secret written into his skin, and all the while give nothing of himself away. Every emotion was expertly veiled, and for every inch of him that Keith gained, Shiro only lost himself further into the nebulous gaze.

“Shiro,” Keith said, his voice soft, rough in the way that made his heart ache. “Why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring?”

It was unexpected, but not undeserved. Shiro’s lips parted, his fingers flexing with his nerves. “I…”

With a startling abruptness, Keith stood, his chair scraping back across the floor. “You don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry I asked.”

“No - Keith, it’s okay,” Shiro tried.

“No it’s not. I shouldn’t’ve said anything. Let’s just pretend I didn’t, okay?” With a sigh, Keith wiped a hand over his face and turned to the door. “I’m gonna get some sleep.”

Shiro wouldn't be able to forget. He knew the concern was written all over his face, and he couldn’t keep it out of his voice when he said, “Good night, Keith.”

Pausing in the door, Keith turned over his shoulder and met Shiro’s eyes. His were unreadable. “Good night, Shiro,” he said, and Shiro was left alone.

* * *

After his consciousness was removed from the Black Lion, Shiro spent five nights in Keith’s bed.

The days were long and dull. There were only so many hours the Lions could travel in their state, and without the Castle of Lions they were left for hours in empty space, nothing but stars surrounding them, stretching on endlessly.

He used to love the stars. He still loved them - but there had been a time when they presented mystery and wonder, when they were something to study and explore, and to learn that the vastness of space was filled with the horrors of war was utterly disappointing. The place he’d spent so many years dreaming of, gave up everything for, worked endlessly to reach while he still could, beat him down until there was nothing left of himself he recognized.

This wasn’t even his body. The hopeful boy who had gone into space eager to discover all of its wonders didn’t exist anymore.

He still loved the stars. He would always love them, but too much of anything could drive a person mad. At least he had Keith to keep him company, but whatever had happened in the space where his memories blurred hung thickly in the air between them, and silences that had once felt companionable were now an opportunity for his mind to run wild with scenarios that could have earned Keith the wound on his cheek.

Krolia was a kind presence, always watching over her son, occasionally offering casual conversation, but seeing them together was a bit surreal. The Keith that Shiro had met and befriended had been without a family for years, had walls built around himself to fend off anyone who might love him and leave him. In the two years he’d spent with his mother, all of those walls were knocked down.

Shiro was so happy for him. Whatever being out here had done to him, at least it gave Keith his family, his home. At least Keith could grow and become the person he was always meant to be.

The best thing the stars ever gave him was Keith.

At night they fell into bed, too exhausted from the day of travel to talk much. Keith wouldn’t say it to the others, not even to Shiro, but he was tired. Shiro desperately wanted to help, but the Black Lion didn’t respond to him when he tried to take over to let Keith rest.

Keith had said it was fine, but the way he collapsed into the mattress each night told him it wasn’t. The first four nights passed like this; Keith fell fast asleep, while Shiro laid awake for hours, too caught up in his scrambled mind to drift off peacefully. When he finally managed, it was to a brief, dreamless sleep before their early awakening to begin the next day’s travels.

On the fifth night, he remembered everything.

It came to him in what seemed like a nightmare, and only worsened as the sense of familiarity settled in. It wasn’t the design of his overactive imagination; he tried to kill Keith. He called him worthless. He held a sword made of light to Keith’s throat until it seared into his flesh and left a mark the might never fade away. And Keith - faced with death at the hand of someone he was supposed to trust, Keith said -

_Keith._

Shiro rolled over, careful not to jostle the bed too much. Keith was sound asleep, curled on his side as always, an arm tucked under his pillow and the other pulled in close to his chest. But the peace that came with sleep was absent from his face; his brow was furrowed, his hand clenched into a fist, breaths shallow.

“Keith?” Shiro whispered, propping himself onto his elbow.

“Shiro…” It was more of a mumble, under his breath and still in his sleep. But he stirred, not like he was waking up, but like he was trying to move away. “Please…”

Shiro shifted onto his knees and settled his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Keith-”

His eyes flitted open, slowly gained focus, and widened in a panic. In his haste to get away from the hand on him he nearly threw himself from the bed. Shiro pulled back, letting Keith distance himself as much as he needed. He gasped for breath, refusing to look at Shiro in his attempts to gather himself.

A moment passed before Shiro finally broke the silence. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Keith lied. Shiro had long ago learned Keith’s tells - hunched shoulders, soft, sad eyes and an averted gaze, like he knew he was wrong to lie at all. “Just - bad dream. I’m fine.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shiro said, testing the waters with a cautious reach of his hand.

Keith flinched away. “No, no, uh - just. Quantum Abyss stuff. I just need a minute.”

He was lying. His reaction to Shiro’s attempt to touch said enough - Keith was terrified of him.

A part of Shiro knew that Keith couldn’t help his visceral reactions, especially when he was in the midst of an apparent panic attack, but the rejection stung deep and Shiro shrank away. Guilt and shame weighed on him, and without a word he slipped from the bed, moving around to the door. “I’ll get you some water,” he said in explanation, though Keith hadn’t asked, and he didn’t look up as Shiro abandoned the room.

The Lions weren’t built for living in - that was the Castle’s purpose - but Black had a small kitchen-type space, with cupboards to store snacks and a tap with running water. Shiro filled a glass and turned to bring it back to the room. Behind him, lurking in the doorway, was Krolia.

He nearly spilled water on himself. “Krolia - I didn’t see you there.”

“I heard talking,” she said. She stood in the undersuit she wore beneath her armor, arms crossed and lips curved downward. She looked so much like Keith, it was startling. “It’s late. Is everything alright?”

“Keith had a nightmare,” Shiro said, guilt creeping into his voice, “He’s - distressed. I was just going to bring him water.”

Krolia frowned. “Did he say what it was about?”

“He…” Shiro bit his lip. “He mentioned the Quantum Abyss, but… he wouldn’t elaborate.”

“You think he lied?” She raised a brow.

“I don’t know. I used to be able to help, and he -” Shiro set the glass down, wiping his hand over his face.

“He’s been through a lot,” Krolia said knowingly. Shiro met her gaze. Whether or not she knew what Shiro did, she had been able to determine as much as everyone else; that Shiro was responsible for Keith’s injury.

“He’s afraid of me.” Shiro leaned back against the counter and dropped his head into his hand.

Krolia stepped closer and leaned against the counter beside him. “The Quantum Abyss showed us visions of our pasts and futures. I spent two years with him there. We saw many moments of each other’s lives. Many of his included you.”

Shiro looked up from his hand.

“Shiro, I do not know you. I do not know what happened when he followed you through the wormhole. All I know is that he came back with a wound across his cheek and you in his arms.” Krolia set a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever he feels right now, it will pass. You are the most important person in his life, and I cannot imagine that that will ever change. Give him time.”

With that Krolia left him to join Keith in the bedroom. Shiro heard their soft murmurs, but tuned out the words. The moment was theirs, and he had no right to intrude.

Keith needed time. They both needed time.

He stepped out of the Black Lion’s living quarters, into the cockpit. As usual, her controls didn’t respond under his touch, but the soft hum of life was a constant as long as Keith was near. He wouldn’t be able to make her fly, but he could at least get the communicator going.

Tuning it to the Green Lion’s frequency, Shiro said in a soft voice, “Pidge, you up?”

There was a long pause, long enough to convince him that she’d long ago fallen asleep. But as he was about to give up, her response came, clear as it was weary. “Yeah?”

“Would it be alright if I stayed with you in the Green Lion from now on?”

“Did something happen?” Pidge asked. He heard her yawn and wondered, not without guilt, if he’d woken her up after all.

“Everything’s fine,” Shiro said, knowing fully well that everything was not fine. “I just - with Keith’s mom here, I think maybe it’d be a little less cramped if I went somewhere else.”

“Okay. Come on over, I’ll open the hatch for you.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Shiro said, “I just gotta let Keith know.”

When he returned with the glass of water he’d promised, Keith was calm again, sitting up in bed with his arms rested atop his knees. Krolia sat beside him, rubbing a hand over his back in gentle, soothing circles. They turned as one as Shiro entered, and Keith smiled in apology. “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Shiro held out the glass for him, and he took it and sipped gratefully. “I’m gonna move into the Green Lion with Pidge.”

The shock, Shiro expected. The hurt Keith wasn’t able to mask quickly enough was a surprise. “What?”

Keith had a right to know that Shiro remembered everything. Whatever Keith was going through, he deserved to know that he wasn’t the only one carrying this. Even if he didn’t want to talk about it with Shiro, he deserved to have the chance. Shiro should have told him then.

“I just think it’s for the best.”

He hated himself for it.

* * *

In the morning, Shiro stepped out of the Black Lion to find that a small camp had already been set up for them. Dressed in her green armor, Pidge sat alone on one of logs arranged around a fire pit, fiddling with a datapad with a look of frustration.

“Good morning, Pidge,” Shiro said. Somehow, the black paladin armor was complete and waiting for him, bayard and all, in the Lion’s living space. He wore all but the helmet, which he held against his hip, and couldn’t deny how wonderful it felt to be back. “You’re up early.”

“I’ve been trying to mess with the communication functions in Green and on my datapad. If I can get a work-around for the Knights’ tech, then we could let the Blades know we’re alright and have someone ready to meet us when we get back to the Coalition.” She pouted, setting her datapad down on the ground. “But it’s not working. Whatever tech the Knights are using, they really knew what they were doing.”

“How are the Lions looking?” Shiro asked. The paladins were stepping out one by one, Lance next to join them looking well rested and freshly showered.

“They’re as charged up as we’ll need for a day of travel. I’d say, as long as we don’t get into any intense battles on the way, we’ll be able to get a good twelve hours in,” Pidge said.

“Cool,” Lance said. He stood as though unaware he was striking a pose. “That puts us back by Coth Z1, doesn’t it?”

“Well, we’re not gonna head back in the same path we came. What we really need to do is take the shortest route out of the Neutral Zone possible, so according to my calculations we should end up near a group of uninhabited moons where we’ll be able to rest for the night.” She pursed her lips in thought. “You know, assuming nothing goes wrong.”

“Loving the optimism, Pidge,” Lance said cheerfully. Behind him, Keith stepped out of the Red Lion in his armor, helmet in one hand and something Shiro couldn’t quite make out in the other.

“Hey, Lance, you left some stuff in Red.” As he reached the circle, he nudged Lance on the shoulder and shifted the object in his hand to show it to him. It was a small pink bottle with alien writing Shiro didn’t recognize printed across the front, along with a strange cartoon drawing of a sort of fruit with eyes and a somewhat disturbing smile. “What the hell is this?”

Lance blinked, and then a grin stretched from ear to ear. “Oh, that! That’s some old shampoo I got from the space mall. I dunno what’s in it, but that stuff did _wonders_ for my hair, _and_ it smells kinda like raspberries.”

He reached to take the bottle, but Keith snatched it back, his expression never changing. “I’m keeping it.”

Lance had never looked so proud. “Your hair will thank you.”

Hunk was the last to arrive, carrying a tray of food with him. “Good morning, everyone,” he said, passing out the portions, each individually wrapped. “I went into a restaurant in town and made us all some breakfast burritos. I have no idea what any of these ingredients are, I don’t get to work in the Neutral Zone a lot, but the people there were _super_ helpful.”

“Great, we’re all up,” Shiro said, smiling his thanks to Hunk as he took the food. “We should get going as soon as possible. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

They ate quickly, talking and laughing among themselves. Through it all, Shiro kept an eye on Keith. He’d showered, and he looked rested enough. The bruises were gone, and when Lance nudged him with an elbow and made a reference that Shiro didn’t understand, his laugh was genuine.

Whatever had been bothering him last night, it didn’t seem to be weighing on him anymore. Or if it was, he’d figured out how to hide it. He seemed comfortable, confident among his friends, more than he ever had when Shiro had been a paladin with them. Compared to the boy who’d struggled to feel he belonged anywhere, this man was unrecognizable.

Glancing between him and Lance, Shiro realized how deeply even that had changed.

As they finished their food, Keith held his helmet in one hand and a lock of his hair in the other, utterly perplexed.

“How did Allura fit all of her hair in here?” he asked, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Lance stared at Keith’s mass of dark hair. “Altean magic?”

With a shrug, Keith set the helmet back down and gathered all of his hair at the back of his head, twisting and tying it into a sloppy bun. Locks fell out at the nape of his neck and around his face, but he didn’t appear bothered as he stuffed the helmet on. Satisfied, he and Lance high fived and stood to return to their Lions.

People ran into the streets as the Lions lifted off to wave farewell.

“Man, I’m gonna miss that when Voltron’s gone,” Hunk said over the radio as they shot into the sky. “I mean, changing people’s lives like that. Inspiring them. Making a difference and all that.”

“We can do it without Voltron, Hunk,” Keith said, “The Blades -”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there, buddy,” Lance said, “We’ve all heard the spiel about a thousand times and if I have to hear it one more time from you in person-”

“What spiel?”

“He’s talking about your commercial,” Pidge said.

“ _The Blade of Marmora is doing everything we can, but with your help, we can start to make a difference_ ,” Lance said, mimicking Keith in a voice far too low.

“I don’t sound like that,” Keith said, his own voice sinking to match Lance’s, to which Lance responded in a high pitch, “Oh you sound _exactly_ like that!” The others piled in, and the playful bickering began.

Shiro stifled a laugh. Whatever else had changed, at least this would always be the same.

* * *

Hours into the journey, Keith pored over Honerva’s notes, open on three different screens and his datapad. Before they took off in the morning, he’d grabbed the datachip back from Lance, and after hours with nothing to look at but empty space, he was grateful for it. Helmet off, hair down, feet on the dashboard, he was remarkably focused.

Then Shiro appeared on one of the screens, and his heart leaped into his throat.

“Hey,” he said, “Just thought I’d check in on you. You feeling okay?”

It should have been easy to tell him the truth. “I’m fine, Shiro.”

“You just - you seemed a little anxious last night.”

“Ah.” Keith tapped his fingers on the datapad’s screen. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind. I needed to relax a bit. Which I did.” That much was true. “And now I’m fine.”

“That’s great.” Shiro smiled. “Are you working on something?”

“Yeah, just Honerva’s notes.” Keith held up the datapad, turning it to show him the handwritten translations, from Altean to Galran to English. “Most of it is in Galran, but there’s parts in Altean, too. I’m trying to translate them.”

“You know Altean?”

Keith huffed. “Not exactly. I know the alphabet.” He made a face as he settled the datapad back in his lap. “But there’s a bunch of pages written in both Altean _and_ Galran, so I’m cross referencing everything and compiling a list of words, and then I figure I’ll use context to fill in what’s missing.”

Shiro blinked, looking both befuddled and amused. The expression was familiar; it was the same look he used to get whenever Keith found a new obsession in the Garrison, something unworthy of the time that he couldn’t seem to put down. “Y’know, we’re probably gonna see Coran in a couple days. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got a lot of travelling to do and I only brought one book.”  

Shiro conceded. “And that book is in Altean.”  

“Exactly.” Keith grinned. “It’s just something to do. Plus, if it turns out that I missed something important on the first read, I’d rather know about it now.”

Shiro shrugged. “That’s fair. How’s it going?”

“It’s taking some time. Her handwriting gets a little iffy in places. Some of her mai-oxes look like nofuses.” Keith rubbed under his chin, a hint of growing stubble scratching at his fingers. “But it’s helping the time pass.”

“Well, at least you’ve got that.” There was a strain to his voice.

Keith smirked. “You’re bored.”

“ _So_ bored.”

Keith laughed, but turned his eyes down. “I should get back to this, Shiro. I was kinda on a roll there.”

He didn’t need to see Shiro’s face fall. He could hear it. “Oh. Yeah, uh - okay.”

They used to stay up late at night talking, losing sleep so they could enjoy each other’s company. They never ran out of things to say, and if they did, even those stretches of silence felt warm. But somewhere along the line, they misstepped. Things changed. All of Keith’s edges that had once fit so well with Shiro’s could no longer find their place.

And then Shiro broke his heart. Maybe they broke each other’s.

The truth was that he would have loved to sit there and talk to Shiro for the entire journey, but when he looked at Shiro now, after everything, no longer delirious from pain, all he could think was, _I have no idea what to say to you._

“I’ll talk to you later, then,” Shiro said.

This was avoidance. Matt was the only one to ever call him out on it, months after the break. This was stubbornness for the sake of it and pure avoidance. Keith had a habit of running away when things got hard. He ran from the Garrison. He ran from the paladins. He ran from Shiro.

A part of him knew he had to stop running.

“See you,” Keith said gently, before ending the line.

* * *

The journey was quiet. At the end of it, they found the cluster of five moons Pidge had mentioned and set down on the largest one - which wasn’t saying much, when it was still small enough to walk around the equator in less than a day. But it had breathable air and that was all they needed.

When Keith emerged from the Red Lion, he was the only one who’d changed out of his armor, back into the jeans and hoodie he’d borrowed. His hair was in a loose braid, and he stuffed his hands into the front pocket of the hoodie as he wandered to meet them at the makeshift campsite they were halfway through setting up.

“You look comfy,” Shiro said, half grinning at the sight of him.

Keith crouched to help Pidge lift a log into the fire. “I spent way too many days in a row stuck in a skin tight suit. If I don’t have to wear the armor, I’m not wearing it.”

Night fell quickly over the moon, the other four in the cluster illuminated in the sky by the nearby star. The paladins stayed close to their Lions, gathered around the fire they’d built as they ate their leftover portions from Sionus.

“Wow, I missed this, y’know?” Hunk said, “Hanging out with you guys, everyone all together. The past few years we’ve only gotten Keith once every few months, Pidge is always off doing science conventions, I’ve got my business. I don’t even remember the last time all of us were together like this.”

Keith’s eyes lowered. “It’s been a while.”

He meant nothing by it, but Shiro still felt a pang of guilt.

“We should do something. What do people usually do around campfires?” Hunk glanced between each of them. “Scary stories? Oh, I know, we should sing campfire songs.”

“I don’t sing.” Keith’s tone was flat, and he punctuated with a long sip of his water.

“That’s bullshit, Keith. We all heard you sing that one song.” Lance smacked Hunk’s arm, waving his hand wildly as he tried to think. “What was it? The one from when we all got hammered and did karaoke?”

“ _Keith_ did karaoke?” Shiro’s look of utter astonishment transformed to barely contained amusement as he glanced towards Keith and caught him shooting daggers at Lance with his eyes.

“Oh, oh, it was the one that’s like -” Hunk sucked in a breath and bellowed, “ _Country roads take me home_ -”

Keith sat in scandalized silence as Lance joined in. “ _To the place I belong! West Virginia_!”

“Alright, I sang one time,” Keith said, if only to get them to shut up. It pushed them over the edge into uncontrollable laughter, Hunk wiping away tears while Lance clutched at his stomach.

“I gotta ask, why _that_ song?” Shiro said, never as much of a country enthusiast as Keith. “You - you aren’t even from West Virginia.”

Keith scoffed. “So? You aren’t the dancing queen.”

“In a way,” Shiro replied coolly, “Aren’t we all the dancing queen?”

“Come on, Keith, sing with us,” Pidge said, “You’re a good singer.”

“I don’t sing,” Keith repeated, downing the rest of his drink and standing up. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

Lance pouted. “Aw, c’mon!”

Keith waved over his shoulder at them without turning around.

“I’ll go with him,” Shiro said, standing.

“And we were so looking forward to hearing your rendition of ‘Dancing Queen,’” Pidge teased.

“Maybe tomorrow night,” Shiro said, stepping after Keith before he could disappear among the trees. “Hey, wait up.”

Keith stopped and turned. Despite it being nighttime, it wasn’t dark. Two of the moons were full, and their light was enough to illuminate the world around them. “Hey. Didn’t think anyone was gonna come with.”

“Well, I just thought it’d be nice to talk for a bit.” Shiro caught up to him, scratching behind his neck. He didn’t deserve that much, after everything, and Keith would be within his rights to reject him entirely - but he had to try. “Y’know, catch up.”

Keith bit his lip. “It’s been a while.”

“I feel like I don’t have any idea what’s been going on with you this past…” _Year and a half_ , he couldn’t manage to finish. He swallowed and tried again. “How’ve you been?” Shiro internally cringed as he said it. It was the wrong question to ask, and not even close to what he meant to say.

“How have I been?” Keith, incredulous, raised a brow. He looked away, working his jaw as he thought. “Could be worse, I guess.”

_How diplomatic_ , Shiro thought. “I, uh - I meant in general, not just, y’know… now.”

To Shiro’s relief, Keith offered an amused smile. “I know what you meant.” He started walking again, waiting only a moment for Shiro to follow him. “I mean, I dunno. Things have been alright. I’ve been working a lot. Space wolf’s doing good.”

“Still hasn’t told you his name, huh?” Shiro said.

Keith’s grin brightened, and Shiro’s heart swelled. “Not yet, no. He finally stopped growing. I was starting to think I’d have to build a whole new house for him, and I still haven’t finished unpacking the first one.”

“You haven’t?” Shiro remembered Keith inviting him to help years ago.

“I could do without the judgment, Shirogane,” Keith said, teasing. “Besides, I’ve been busy.”

“I’ve noticed.” When Keith gave him a bemused look, Shiro clarified, “You’re on the news all the time back home. Y’know, all the stuff you do with the Blades - planting trees, cleaning up beaches, saving the universe and all that.”

“They must not have a lot to talk about,” Keith said.

If Shiro was a braver man, he would’ve told Keith how much he loved to see those stories, how much hope they spread, how good it was to see Keith thriving, excelling at something he loved.

Instead, Keith said, “What about you? Been keeping busy?”

Shiro’s nod was too enthusiastic, and Keith caught onto it with a narrowed gaze. He always had a way of _knowing_ Shiro so much better than he knew himself. “Yeah,” he said in an attempt to save face, “Yeah, I mean - y’know, retirement kinda left my days open, but I’ve been finding stuff to do.”

Keith didn’t question him, but the expression never left his face, and Shiro had spent too long lying to them both to let it continue any longer. He heaved a sigh, looking to the side so he wouldn’t have to see Keith’s reaction. “I left Curtis.”

It stopped Keith in his tracks. “What happened?”

There were a million ways to answer. It just wasn’t working out. They weren’t right for each other. They grew apart. But Shiro had taken up a pattern of saying the wrong thing, and what he said after a long, thoughtful pause was, “You did.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith said with a dangerous laugh, “Come again?”

“Curtis woke me up when the first reports came in - that you had died. It…” Shiro reached behind him to rub the back of his neck. “I dunno, it… it was like the world stopped turning. It just made me realize a lot of things. And then I got on a line with all the others and we realized the visions we all had had to mean something, and when I tried to leave he said no. He just - he wasn’t going to let me. It was like with Adam all over again, except this was something important.”

A long, uncomfortable silence fell between them. After a few moments of it, Shiro wondered if he should keep talking, keep trying to clarify, to explain himself, but Keith beat him to it. When he spoke, his voice was so soft, so small, Shiro finally looked at him again.

“You left your husband to save me?”

“I had to, Keith.” Keith couldn’t hold their gaze, and he crossed his arms as he looked to the side, brow furrowed into an expression Shiro couldn’t read. “I - you’ve saved my life how many times?”

“So you left him because you thought you _owed_ me?” He scoffed, clearly offended. “You don’t owe me anything, Shiro.”

“That - is exactly what he said you’d say.” Shiro huffed a laugh. “That’s not why I came out here and you have to know that, Keith. You have to.”

“When we get to Earth, we’re fixing this,” Keith said, “I’ll drop you off at your house myself.”

“Keith, I don’t think you understand.” Taking a small step forward, Shiro reached out a cautious hand.

Keith stepped back. “I’m not going to be responsible for your marriage falling apart, Shiro.”

Lowering his arm, Shiro watched him, choosing his words carefully. “You aren’t responsible for anything that happened between Curtis and I, Keith. It just - it wasn’t working. It wasn’t going to work.”

When Keith didn’t move again, didn’t speak, Shiro tried taking another step closer. “Things were going wrong with us for a long time, and never because of you. We’re the only ones responsible for it, Curtis and I. This was just the tipping point. I couldn’t _not_ come looking for you. I couldn’t do that, Keith.”

Keith considered him for a moment, and then his expression eased, and he dropped his arms to his side. “I’m sorry, Shiro. I know you loved him.”

It wasn’t what he expected to hear, and it felt a bit like a punch to the gut. With everything going on, he hadn’t taken the time to really consider how the breakup was affecting him. It had happened so fast, and there had only been one thing on his mind.

“I did,” he said, cautious as he reached to settle a hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith let him. “But not enough to lose you.”

Taking in a long breath, Keith offered a small smile. “Thanks. For not listening to him.”

“You would’ve done it for me,” Shiro said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Their eyes met, and all at once it felt too intimate. Shiro wanted to pull Keith into his arms and never let him go; he wanted to never let this happen again; he wanted to keep Keith safe, and happy, and by his side.

It was too much. He cleared his throat, gesturing for them to keep walking as he pulled his hand back. “So, uh - what about you? Hopefully nothing quite as disastrous going on in your love life?”

Keith snorted. “I’m sleeping with my mom’s secretary and his wife.”

Shiro’s eyes widened, and he spluttered for a moment before managing to say, “Oh - that’s, uh - that sounds nice.”

“It’s alright,” Keith said with a shrug. “They’re very in love with each other, but he’s got the emotional capacity of a rock. We’re pretty much just friends who have sex.”

Shiro’s shoulders perked. “So it’s... not serious?” _Smooth one, Shirogane._

“Nah. We haven’t really put a label on it. We’re definitely not dating. It’s just fun.” He shrugged again, his face falling. “They’re probably worried.”

“We’ll get you home soon, Keith,” Shiro said, voice gentle.

“Yeah…” They continued to walk, and as they cleared a section of trees his expression changed, eyes lighting with awestruck wonder. “Shiro, look.”

Shiro shifted his gaze off of Keith and suddenly understood the change. Ahead of them sat a glowing pool, ripples spreading outward from a tall, bioluminescent waterfall at its far end. Swirls of color filled the pool, a bit like a pink and blue and yellow galaxy twisting into itself. Even the moss growing along the rocks emitted its own green light, somehow. The place was unlike anything Shiro had ever seen.

“It’s incredible,” he said, breathless as he grinned despite himself. “Kinda makes me wish I never gave it all up.” He turned again to look at Keith, and froze in his place.

The water’s soft glow lit Keith’s face a soft blue hue, and he stared at the waterfall in silent awe, unaware that Shiro was watching him. It had been so long since Shiro had seen Keith so relaxed, but there was a sadness in his eyes.

“Keith,” he said, softer, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Keith said, shaking his head. He stepped forward and crouched by the water, touching his fingers to the surface. The water reacted with a ripple of yellow light. “Just - there’s so much out there like this, y’know? So much to see.”

Shiro moved to crouch beside him, watching his face intently. Keith didn’t seem to notice the attention. “Yeah…”

Keith stared out at the water. Raw emotion glimmered in his eyes, and it twisted at Shiro’s heart. “Shiro, when we were in the cave in Sionus, did you see a vision?”

“I saw us all with Allura,” Shiro said.

With an unhappy grin, Keith turned his head down. “I wasn’t there.”

“Of course you were.”

“Think back, Shiro. Everyone was there.” Keith rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Everyone but me.”

“No, no, you were…” But as Shiro recalled the vision, he realized Keith was right. For a fleeting moment, he thought his memory might be faulting, but these were the kinds of details he always remembered. Every paladin was there, Allura included - everyone but Keith. “Maybe you were just off to the side.”

Keith scoffed. “Shiro.”

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason, Keith,” Shiro said. He wasn’t sure.

He wasn’t sure of anything.

“Can you consider the possibility that my absence from the vision might mean that I don’t make it to the end of this mission?” Keith said.

“Absolutely not,” Shiro said, firm. “There’s another explanation. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

From the depths of his memory, he heard the echo of Keith’s voice, years ago, saying the same to him.

“Well, if the past few days have been any indication-”

“You’re still here, aren’t you? Keith, look at me.” Shiro shifted onto his knees, reaching to cup the back of Keith’s neck, turning him so they could meet eyes. “I will not let anything happen to you.”

Whether or not Keith realized it, he leaned into Shiro’s touch. “You sound so sure.”

“I am.” He switched his hand around to hold Keith’s cheek, and caught the way his eyes widened at the intimacy. “You’re gonna be just fine, and all of us are gonna be there to bring Allura home. I’ll make sure of it.”

Their gazes held, and between the ethereal glow of the shimmering water on his face and in his eyes, and the softness of his expression, Keith was stunningly beautiful. Shiro’s eyes drifted down to his delicate lips, parted as they searched for words. As though by some magnetic pull, Shiro felt himself drawn closer.

A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that it was too soon for something like this - it had only been a matter of days since he ended things with Curtis, and he’d barely had the time to come to terms with it. Divorce papers hadn’t even been filed yet, and on top of it all Keith was dealing with his own personal traumas. Neither one of them was in the right state of mind to make this decision.

Despite everything, Shiro leaned in.

* * *

The ground shook, and Keith jolted backwards out of Shiro’s grip.

It was all too much, too fast. All of Keith’s feelings threatened to bubble to the surface, no matter how many alarm bells rang at Shiro’s touch, and Shiro’s gaze on him, and the way Shiro began to shift closer.

It was too much. Shiro may have left his husband, but it was only days ago, and he was still technically _married._ They hadn’t spoken to each other in over a year, and hadn’t even begun to touch upon the cause of their intentional distance. And there were so many feelings to sort through, complicated and complex emotions, everything dating back to the fight that gave him his scar, and maybe before that. It was too much, and Shiro was so close to him, touching him, and even if the ground hadn’t tremored at that moment Keith would have jumped back.

“What was that?” he said, shifting onto a knee.

Shiro stared back at him, wide eyed. “Keith, I-”

The ground shook again, more violently than the first. Shiro leaped to his feet, extending a hand to help Keith stand. Turning their attention up, a dark mass drifted across the sky, blocking out the light of one of the moons.

No - the moon was _gone_.

In the distance, above the treeline, Keith saw the Lions dart upward one by one.

“The Lions -” Keith began, taking a small step forward.

Shiro held tight to his elbow, holding him in place. “Keith, look.”

As they watched, the mass took position above the moon, and in an instant a pillar of purple light shot from its center, stretching down to the surface. The ground trembled with its impact, a gust of air swiping over everything, a precursor for the impending destruction.

“Run,” Shiro said, tugging on Keith’s arm. When he didn’t move immediately, he pulled harder. “Run!”

It snapped Keith from his horror, and they burst into a sprint as one.

Ahead of them, the Black and Red Lions dived down towards the surface, ready to take them aboard, but before they could reach them the earth gave way, cracking apart and crumbling to pieces that shot into the sky and back down again. Gravity no longer made sense, debris flying in every direction.

Keith and Shiro skidded to a stop as the earth under their feet fragmented, Keith stumbling back with a cry. He lost his balance and fell back to the moon’s surface, landing hard on his side while Shiro just managed to keep his footing.

“Keith!” Shiro yelled, staring down at him and then back at the sky. Rocks and broken branches were tumbling back towards him, gaining speed. Keith’s eyes widened in terror. There was nowhere for him to go - the ground wasn’t stable enough to stand and try to run. He would be crushed.

This was it.

Keith moved to cover himself as much as possible, curling into a tight ball with his arms raised to block his head, but knew it wouldn’t be enough. His eyes squeezed shut as he waited for impact -

\- and felt instead the weight of a body over his.

Eyes snapping open, Keith gasped, panicked at the thought of Shiro leaping down to take the blow. It was so stupid - he had been safer up there, where the rocks wouldn’t hit him, and now they would both die. It was so _stupid_. “Shiro-”

The black bayard appeared in Shiro’s fist, and he held his arm up to block them both as it took the form of a protective shield of glowing energy.

Debris hit the shield an instant later, and Shiro lurched forward from the force of it, but his arm never lowered. He gritted his teeth from the effort to hold the shield up, and as Keith stared up at him, awestruck, he managed to say in a strained voice, “I’ve got you.”

Heart pounding in his ears, Keith nodded. When the rocks stopped falling, Shiro wrapped his free arm around Keith and brought them both to their feet, keeping the shield held up to block them from anymore falling debris.

They ran.

Above them, the Lions tried to break through to retrieve them, but there was too much in the air, too much danger of their paladins getting injured from their efforts. “We have to get up high,” Keith said, holding his arms protectively around his face. “It’s the only way the Lions will be able to reach us.”

“Ahead of us,” Shiro said, and Keith looked ahead to the series of cracking chunks of moon rising up into the sky.

“That’ll work,” Keith said, and felt Shiro’s hand curl into the hoodie at his side as they took off towards it. The first steps were easy, the piece still only breaking away, but as they ran for the higher sections Shiro enlisted the use of his jet pack to give them those last few inches of height needed to make the jump.

The higher they went, the thinner the air, and Keith began to feel lightheaded with one leap left. His feet left the edge and they soared, Shiro landing hard and stumbling forward while Keith scuffed the side, costing him his balance. He teetered, waving his arms in a wild effort to regain his footing, and as he felt himself tipping backward Shiro spun around, catching the front of the hoodie in his fist and pulling him back into his chest.

“Hold onto me,” Shiro said, wrapping his arm around Keith’s shoulders so the shield covered his head. Keith had only seconds to throw his arms around Shiro before he started the jet pack and they both shot upward.

Keith felt gravity loosen its hold on them, felt them no longer tugged down but up into the atmosphere, and for a horrifying moment couldn’t breathe.

Then, the Black Lion swooped in, its jaws opened wide, and caught them both.

They crashed to the hard metal floor, Shiro on top of him, both gasping for breath. Keith’s head was cushioned by Shiro’s arm in the fall, but the room was spinning from the whiplash, and it took him too long to realize he was still clinging to the other in a death grip.

“Are you hurt?” Shiro asked, frantic. He dropped the bayard on impact, and he scrambled onto his knees over Keith, hands moving to his face, his bicep, his chest, checking him for injuries.

“I don’t - I don’t think so,” Keith said, still out of breath.

Not satisfied, Shiro continued to check him over, eyes wide with panic. “Shiro,” Keith said, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Holding him by the wrist, he turned Keith’s hand over to find the palm slick with dark blood. “You’re bleeding.”

“Shiro, it’ll be fine. We have to get to the cockpit.” Keith squirmed and wriggled under him, trying to free himself from Shiro’s grip.

It knocked him back to his senses, and he blinked rapidly before standing and pulling Keith with him. “Right,” he said, “Right. Come on.”

They rushed through the Black Lion to the cockpit, Shiro taking the pilot’s seat and immediately opening a line with the other paladins while Keith stood at his side, gripping the back cushion for balance. “Paladins, do you copy?”

“Shiro!” Lance said, appearing on screen with the others quick to follow. “Oh man, is it good to see you two!”

“What the hell just happened?” Keith said.

“It’s the Knights,” Pidge said, “They’ve gotten their hands on a device that looks to me an awful lot like the Komar, with some improvements. They’re harvesting the moons’ quintessence and destroying them in the process.”

“The cruiser is still here,” Hunk said, “But chances are they’re gonna make a wormhole jump soon. Now would be a really great time to form Voltron.”

“No one’s piloting Red,” Pidge said.

“I can pilot from here,” Keith said, gripping the chair with one hand and bracing himself on the dashboard with the other.

“Keith, are you sure?” Shiro asked, looking at him over his shoulder.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Keith repeated himself through gritted teeth. “I can pilot from here.” When his eyes opened again, they widened in focus, the irises glowing with red quintessence. In the space ahead of them, the Red Lion roared. Though he was still aware of his surroundings, his mind was in Red.

“Alright,” Shiro said, “Everyone, on me. Form Voltron!”

The Lions lined up in formation. They were out of practice, and it had been years since they’d needed to do this. With the shape the Lions were in, Keith wasn’t even sure it would work - they’d tried before when the Lions were exhausted from long days of travel, and failed.

But it worked.

The Lions came together and transformed, recreating the image of a man that had for generations been considered a legend. With the transformation complete, the Knights’ cruiser began to turn around, releasing a few dozen fighters to keep them occupied while the superweapon made its escape.

“Hunk, cannon!” Shiro ordered.

“On it!” Hunk said, and the Yellow Lion formed its weapon, targeting a dozen of the fighters at once and firing. Most were hit and burst apart in a fiery explosion; some managed to evade, and retaliated with their own energy cannons.

One wasn’t a problem. Twenty at once was another story.

Shiro raised the Black Lion’s shield, but the force of the attack knocked them back. But the fighters didn’t fall back, only kept rushing forward in their assault.

“Form sword!” Shiro said.

In his own reflection, Keith saw the quintessence in his eyes glow brighter as he triggered the transformation. The blade formed and as the fighters came into range, he swiped it down, slicing a row of them cleanly in half. Shiro pushed them toward the cruiser, past the oncoming fighters as they evaded another blow.

But as they neared the cruiser and prepared to attack, the Komar’s cannon was turned on them, and in a flash of bursting light Voltron was shot with a blast of quintessence too powerful. It overloaded their controls, a hit they might have been able to bounce back from if the Lions had been at full power but, given their current state, left them immobile.

“They’re getting away!” Pidge said.

“We can’t move,” Shiro said, “We’re gonna have to let them.”

Before their eyes, the cruiser summoned a wormhole and one by one, the cruiser and the fighters disappeared into it. It closed behind them, and Voltron was left floating in open space, slow to regain enough power to move.

“Disband,” Shiro said as the lights began to flicker, “The best we can do right now is set down and rest for the night.”

“The Knights left two moons,” Pidge said, “They both seem to have a breathable atmosphere, although we wouldn’t want to be out there very long.”

“We won’t need to be. Let’s just set down, get some sleep, and we’ll regroup in the morning when the Lions have gotten to charge.”

“What the hell are they planning to do with all that quintessence?” Lance said.

“I don’t know,” Keith said, “But whatever it is, it’s not gonna be good.”

The Lions split apart, landing on the nearer of the two moons and switching to low power. The paladins said goodnight, and Shiro stood while Keith came back to himself, loosening his grip on the chair.

“Your hand.” Shiro caught his elbow before he could walk away, and Keith looked back at him with eyes widened in surprise.  

“I -” Keith looked down and turned his hand over. The wound was messy, with dirt mixed into the blood, but it looked more painful than it felt. It left a red print on the chair. “Oh.”

“Come on.” Shiro tugged his elbow until Keith moved along with him through the cockpit, towards the living space deeper within the Black Lion. He pulled Keith into the bathroom, set him up against the counter and began to dig around for first aid supplies. Keith rolled up his sleeve as Shiro returned to him with cleansing wipes and bandages. “This is probably gonna sting a little.”

He took Keith’s hand into his own, fingers gentle as they curled around his wrist. The cleaner did sting, and Keith sucked in a sharp breath as the wound burned. It lasted only a moment. The dirt and blood cleared away under Shiro’s care, his now cleaned skin shining under the room’s low light. Shiro only let go of his hand to swap the wipes for bandages, and he directed Keith to hold the end while Shiro turned it over and around, wrapping Keith’s palm until it was secure.

All the while, Shiro kept his eyes down, but Keith could see that the tension hadn’t left him. He felt it in Shiro’s touch. Shiro was upset, but he was keeping a tight lip, probably to prevent Keith from noticing.

But Keith always noticed.

“It’s fine, Shiro,” Keith said with a soft voice as Shiro finished bandaging his hand. “It’s just a cut. I’ve had a lot worse, this is nothing. I’m fine.”

Shiro winced. “You aren’t fine.”

Keith’s heart sunk. “I am, I promise. I didn’t even feel it.”

“I almost lost you, Keith,” Shiro said. He struggled to meet Keith’s gaze, managing it only for a moment at a time before looking back to the unused bandages where they sat on the counter.

“But you didn’t. You made sure nothing happened, just like you said you would.”

“No, Keith,” Shiro said, pinching the bridge of his nose and heaving a sigh. “I almost lost you.”

It took a moment, and then Keith realized. He didn’t mean on the moon, with rocks falling and threatening to crush them, or the ground falling apart beneath their feet. He meant the druid’s wound at his side that left Keith bedridden and near death. He meant the SOS signal that the Blade of Marmora had determined could only mean he’d died. He meant the fight that kept them apart for over a year. All of it.

They almost lost each other too many times.

“I’m here, Shiro.” Never particularly skilled in the art of comfort and unsure of what else he could do, Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, pressing their bodies close. Shiro was quick to return the gesture, strong arms sliding around Keith’s waist and holding on tight, like he was afraid Keith would crumble otherwise.

“I thought I lost you,” Shiro whispered, face turned into Keith’s hair. It was - intimate, in a way that felt both familiar and not. The embrace lasted moments which became minutes, and the longer they held on, neither willing to let go, the more obvious the change in tone. Keith was aware of every movement, of Shiro’s breaths in his hair and his hands shifting over his back to grip and release the hoodie he wore. He crushed Keith to his chest, wrapped around him so fully he could get lost in Shiro’s warm, safe arms.

Shiro lifted a hand to cradle the back of Keith’s head, fingers dipping into his hair. Keith felt as Shiro turned, his mouth pressed to Keith’s temple. It was entirely innocent, yet Keith’s heart leapt into his throat and stifled a breath. Shiro’s lips were warm on his skin, softer than they had any right to be. Unthinking, Keith slowly raised his head from Shiro’s shoulder, and felt Shiro moving with him, as though an unseen force was pulling them towards an inevitable conclusion. He felt the tip of Shiro’s nose drag across his cheek, felt his hot breath on his jaw. Keith’s eyes closed of their own accord and before he could fully comprehend it, they were kissing.

In all of his imaginings of their first kiss, it never happened in the bathroom of the Black Lion, with wipes covered in Keith’s blood sitting on the counter. They were usually happier. Shiro was never married to another man.

The real thing, whatever its imperfections may have been, was infinitely better.

The feel of Shiro’s lips on his set Keith’s heart stammering. They were in sync with one another, pulling apart to breathe and moving back together again in an instant. The kiss deepened, lips parting as Keith shifted his hands to Shiro’s neck. It was slow and soft at the start, a test, and evolved into irresistible need, a pace they struggled to keep up with even as they pushed it harder, faster. Shiro cupped Keith’s jaw as he sucked and nipped his bottom lip, trailing searing kisses along his throat and pulling sharp gasps of pleasure from him.

It was too much, too fast, and not nearly enough. It was adrenaline leftover from their narrow escape from a collapsing moon. It was dangerous, setting warning bells ringing in Keith’s mind, a reminder that Shiro wasn’t his to take. The last thing Keith wanted was to be the man who broke Shiro’s home apart -

\- but he wasn’t wearing his ring. He left.

Keith was looking at a limited window of opportunity, and Shiro wanted him. Shiro wanted him, and they may never get this chance again.

He may never get this chance again.

Shiro’s tongue soothed a love bite he’d left just above Keith’s clavicle, and Keith’s hands scrambled to remove his armor piece by piece, dropping them gracelessly to the floor in his desperation. Shiro followed his lead, hands traveling down over his back until they reached the end of the hoodie and could dip underneath. The touch was a shock, driving him closer until they were flush. The last of Shiro’s upper body armor fell and Keith wasted no time finding the zipper at the back of his neck and yanking it down.

The fabric fell away, and Keith helped him pull his arms free so that it could hang loosely around his hips, baring his torso for Keith to touch. Setting his hands low on Shiro’s stomach, he explored the expanse of his body, all smooth, hot skin over hard muscle, and lowered his lips to Shiro’s chest.

Shiro’s breath stuttered. Keith took it as encouragement, kissing and nipping at Shiro’s pectorals. He sucked a mark into the skin over Shiro’s heart, feeling each skipped beat under his lips.

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice had never sounded like that, and Keith turned his head up in surprise. Eyes dark, Shiro tugged the hoodie up and pulled it off over Keith’s head, discarding it on the floor beside his armor. He settled his robotic hand on Keith’s hip, the other reaching for his jaw, but their mouths had already collided before he could take hold. Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck, sinking a hand into his hair, intoxicated by the feel, the taste of him.

When they parted to breathe, Keith stopped them long enough to ask, “Do you want me?”

Shiro didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he said, stooping to kiss him, tongue swiping over his lip. “God, yes.”

It was the only permission Keith needed. He could let himself have this; he could have Shiro, for one night, without regret. If he had to die before the end of this, he could be with Shiro just once.

He pulled Shiro back to him, and when their mouths met, everything Keith knew ended. There was only Shiro, and Shiro’s strong embrace as he lifted Keith into his arms and carried him to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out [this awesome art](https://twitter.com/ineedashiro/status/1110987305752367107) by [@effitsfranki](https://twitter.com/effitsfranki)!
> 
> up next: feelings.


	6. aviation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please mind some additional tags, and also note that this is a pretty emotional chapter with a number of flashbacks~
> 
> check out [this amazing art](https://twitter.com/Lunar_Wanderer_/status/1118693972325482496) by [Lunar_Wanderer](https://twitter.com/Lunar_Wanderer_) on Twitter of the scene directly following the end of chapter 5.... the art on the other end of the link is nsfw so please proceed with that in mind! 
> 
> many thanks to [Xantcha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xantcha) for beta reading!

**Chapter 6**

_Where'd you want it?_   
_It's your decision honey,  
_ _My planet or yours?_

"Aviation" - The Last Shadow Puppets

* * *

The sweet aroma of one of Romelle’s favorite authentic Altean cookies wafted through the halls of her and Hunk’s apartment. It had become a bit of a tradition for them; every week, once a week, Hunk would bake the cookies with Romelle’s recipe, and at nine o’clock they would sit down and watch the next few episodes of whatever cartoon they’d started together.  

It was such a far cry from their time with Voltron and Hunk loved every second of it.

At five to nine, Hunk pulled the cookies, baked to just the right amount of crispness, out of the oven. The drumming of a rainstorm, strange for the season, set a soothing tone for the evening. Romelle was in the living room of their shared apartment, sitting cross-legged on the couch in her comfiest set of pajamas and getting the cartoon ready. The mice had taken up residence across the top of the couch. The night nearly proceeded according to plan.

At nine o’clock exactly, as if on cue, the guest buzzer sounded. It was a loud, startling noise made even more so by its unexpectedness. Romelle jumped, nearly dropping the remote and accidentally selecting “play.” The mice, frightened by her reaction, scattered.

With a frown, Hunk moved to answer the buzzer. “Hunk here.”

“Hunk,” came a familiar voice, “It’s Keith. Let me up.”

“Keith?” Hunk said, looking back at Romelle over his shoulder, “I thought you were staying with Curt and Shiro for a few days.”

“Can you just let me up, dude?” Keith said. Something in his tone set Hunk’s nerves on edge. Something was very wrong. “It’s pouring out here.”

Hunk pressed the lock release, setting off another buzzing sound. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Come on up.”

“Were we expecting Keith?” Romelle asked, looking perplexed as Hunk turned back to her.

Hunk moved to the linen closet in the hall. “I sure wasn’t.”

There was a knock at the door. Romelle, who, from Hunk’s understanding, was fond of Keith after their brief time in the Quantum Abyss together, leaped off the couch to answer. “I’ve got it!”

As Hunk stepped back into the living room with a small stack of soft towels, she swung the door open to offer a warm, lively welcome. The sight of the young man in the doorway stalled her enthusiasm.

Keith was soaked to the bone, rain dripping from the end of his ponytail and sticking stray bangs to his face. Even the bag over his shoulder was drenched through, and though he couldn’t have been standing in the hall for more than a few seconds a puddle had already gathered around his feet. But infinitely worse was the expression he wore - one Hunk had never seen on him before. Jaw tight and eyes downcast, it was the nearest to tears Keith had ever outwardly looked.

“Oh my God,” Hunk said. Romelle stepped aside to let Keith in, and Hunk took his bag and wrapped a towel over his shoulders. “Dude - are you okay?”

“No,” Keith said, voice strained. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Yeah, of course.” Hunk ushered him inside, setting another towel on the couch so he could sit. He collapsed onto it, hunched over himself like all he wanted was to curl up into a ball and hide himself away.

It was so unlike him. Keith had always been emotional, sure. He had a temper like no other. But when he returned from the Quantum Abyss, he seemed better able to control it, only ever losing his cool when pushed to his limits.

But Keith was never one to show pain so openly. Even when Shiro went missing, his pain was redirected into a blazing rage that burned anyone who so much as offered a supporting hand. At the time, Hunk wondered if he knew how to deal with his hurts in any other way. Seeing him like this now, so destroyed by the unknown source of his anguish that he couldn’t even sit upright, Hunk missed the fire.

Romelle took the seat beside him, eyes soft with concern. The mice peeked around the cushions as she asked, “What’s wrong, Keith?”

“I think -” His eyes squeezed shut. “I think I just lost my best friend.”

* * *

Keith awoke with a start to the feel of strong arms around his middle and legs tangled with his own. The image of his blade buried to the hilt in Shiro's chest faded, replaced by the faint glow of the dimmed lights inside the Black Lion's living quarters. A warm body pressed against his back, steady breaths tickled his neck, and he ached in the best way. As he stretched out his sleep stiffened limbs, Shiro stirred behind him, tightening his hold and nuzzling the back of Keith’s neck. It was comfortable. It was new.  

He’d never woken up in someone’s arms before. He’d never been held through the night.

A few times he’d woken up on Shiro, in one way or another. Usually with his head pillowed by Shiro’s arm, or his shoulder, or his chest. Usually after falling asleep talking to one another for hours. But Shiro never held him like this. Even in his sleep, he was perfectly polite.

This felt safe. He almost wanted to stay in bed like that all morning.

But they couldn’t do that.

Blinking away the haze of sleep, Keith was slow to roll onto his back, detangling his feet from Shiro’s. Awake already, Shiro watched him with eyes half-lidded, a lazy smile playing at his lips. His hair was tousled from the previous night, when Keith’s fingers threaded into it over and over, desperate for something to hold onto.

He’d never been treated with such care - picked apart by meticulous hands, left unraveled, twitching with jolts of pleasure at the slightest touch. The first rush was shattering, the second was his undoing, and the third a revelation. _So this is what it feels like._

“Good morning,” Shiro said, kissing Keith’s shoulder and shifting a hand to rest on his chest, above his heart.

“‘Morning,” Keith said, “What time is it?”

“Early.” The hand on his chest slid to cup his jaw, fingers dipping into the hair at the nape of his neck as Shiro tugged him down for a kiss.

Keith’s eyes fluttered shut, unable to prevent the smile from creeping across his lips when they parted only to rub noses. He rolled onto his side, settled his arm over Shiro’s waist and kissed him again. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long. Just a few minutes longer than you.” Shiro’s thumb brushed over Keith’s cheek. “Would you open your eyes for me, baby?”

The endearment made him shiver, blood rushing to his cheeks. Instantly shy, he cracked an eye open, turning his face half into the pillow as if to hide. The way Shiro looked at him, he couldn’t help it. It was too sweet, too affectionate. Keith had no experience with being treated like this. He had no idea how to react.

“You’re so beautiful,” Shiro said, propping himself onto an elbow and leaning to pepper kisses across Keith’s face. It pulled a soft whine from him, a sound he didn’t even know he could make, and his eye squeezed shut once more. Shiro kissed the lid. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

The kisses trailed closer to Keith’s lips. At the rate things were going, he would never leave that bed. A piece of him would have been happy with that, but the rest was crawling back to reality.

Shiro was not his. Shiro wasn’t even divorced yet. The night was perfect, but it was also over. “I should get back to Red.”

Above him, Shiro stopped. “What?”

“The others are probably still sleeping,” Keith said, eyes opening. The pout Shiro wore tore at his resolve, but he couldn’t give in. “If I go now, I can probably get to Red without being seen.”

Shiro touched Keith’s cheek with the back of his hand in a gentle caress. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

Keith tapped Shiro’s chest twice. In sparring practice, it was a way to signal a yield and get an opponent to back off. The signal was so ingrained in them that Shiro didn’t hesitate to roll onto his side, allowing Keith to sit. “I don’t want them to know about this right now. I haven’t even worked out what this is myself, I don’t want to try to explain it.”

As Keith tossed the sheets aside and climbed out of bed, Shiro sat up. “Then let’s talk about it. Let’s figure it out.”

Keith paused in his search for his clothes. It took every ounce of his willpower not to retort, _Oh, so this you want to talk about?_

Instead he tugged on his jeans and managed, “I’m barely even awake, Shiro, I don’t know what to say. I need to actually think about this. I need to take a shower.”

“Shower here,” Shiro said.

The hoodie still sat where it had been discarded in the bathroom, and Keith stilled on his way to get it, half turning in the doorway with an apologetic sigh. “I gotta go, Shiro.”

“So we just aren’t going to talk about this?”

Keith frowned. “I didn’t say that. I just -” He crossed his arms. “You’re married, Shiro. And with everything else that happened between us, it’s complicated. I have a lot to think about and so do you. I don’t think I can have this conversation when I don’t know how I feel. I don’t think that’s fair to either of us.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed, but the next moment he nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I can wait.”

A grateful smile lifted Keith’s cheeks. “Thank you.”

“When do you think you’ll be ready?” Shiro fidgeted where he sat, visibly trying not to pout. “Just out of curiosity.”

“Patience yields focus, babe.” Keith winked and stepped into the bathroom.

From the bedroom, Shiro groaned. The sheets rustled, and he said, “I never thought you’d use that against me.”

Keith plucked the hoodie off of the floor and slipped into it, already taking comfort in the way the oversized sleeves hung on his arms. A pout formed as he took a handful of the front to sniff and realized that the smell of Shiro had mostly faded. It was a silly thing to miss, but Keith had liked being able to pretend, even if Shiro wasn’t his, that he was Shiro’s.

For the briefest moment, it didn’t feel like pretending.

He wasn’t even out the door yet and his heart already ached.

His boots were kicked off at some point after they stumbled into bed, and he scanned the floor as he stepped back into the bedroom. Somehow, they ended up across the room. Keith crouched to pull them on, not bothering with the laces.

“Keith, wait.”

Shiro sat at the edge of the bed in his boxers, hair still adorably mussed from sleep. As he caught Keith’s eye, he held out a hand, beckoning him closer. Without hesitation, Keith crossed the room to him. The moment he was in range, Shiro wrapped his arms low around Keith’s waist and tugged him to stand between his knees. Keith was all too happy to oblige, settling his hands in Shiro’s hair as his head dipped to Keith’s chest.

“Tell me you don’t regret it,” Shiro said, near a whisper.

“Regret you?” Keith pressed a kiss to the top of Shiro’s head, tipped him back and pressed another to the scar across his nose. It was too silly of a question to even consider. Everything he had ever wanted was right there in his hands. “I could never.”

The tension eased from Shiro’s shoulders as he sighed his relief, turning his head to catch Keith’s lips before he could pull away. Keith smiled into it, hands slipping down to cup Shiro’s jaw as they kissed once, twice more. “Okay,” Shiro said, “We’ll talk later.”

“We’ll talk later,” Keith agreed, careful as he stepped out of Shiro’s grip. Shiro caught his hands and kissed each one, holding on until Keith was too far and they slipped from his grasp. “See you, Shiro.”

“See you,” Shiro said, and with that Keith was gone.

* * *

It was approaching sunset, the light nearing the horizon and casting the world in a faint yellow glow. Keith was bent over his hoverbike with a wrench when Shiro found him. Grease settled in splotches across his arms and stained his otherwise white tank. He’d tied his hair back, and as Shiro watched he wiped sweat from his brow, his bangs sticking to his forehead.

He caught Shiro staring and straightened up with a crooked grin. “I thought I was meeting you at your place for dinner.”

Shiro matched the expression as Keith stepped down into the dirt. “Matt told me you were out here working on your bike, so I thought I’d swing by.”

“I’d give you a hug but I’m kind of gross,” Keith said, laughter gleaming in his eyes.

“I want one anyway.” Shiro opened his arms, pulling Keith into his chest. Keith’s arms wrapped around him as Shiro gave a few friendly pats to his shoulder. “It’s so good to see you, man.”

“Two months is too long, huh?” Shiro could feel Keith’s grin against his shoulder.

“Way too long,” Shiro said as he pulled back, leaving his hands a moment longer on Keith’s bare shoulders. He was covered in a thin layer of dust, probably kicked up while testing the bike, and some of it transferred to Shiro’s shirt in a definitively Keith-shaped spot.

Keith laughed and swiped his hand over Shiro’s front to help brush it off. “Sorry. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“What are you doing with your bike?” Shiro asked, gaze switching between Keith, the bike, and the cluttered toolbox at their feet. “Anything I can help with?”

“I’m just about done,” Keith said, patting the side of it with the affection of a parent. “I was fixing her up to give to Lance.”

Shiro couldn’t withhold the shock. “You’re giving your bike to Lance?”

“I’m just not here often enough to use her, Shiro. Bikes don’t like to sit around gathering dust.” Keith tossed the wrench in the air so that it flipped over itself and caught it again with ease as he stepped back up to finish his work. “I already made him promise to let me take her out whenever I’m on Earth, though. So I’ll still be able to kick your ass in a race every time I visit.”

“I’m just surprised you’re trusting Lance with your bike,” Shiro said. That wasn’t the half of it. Keith giving up his bike felt like the end of an era. “You love this thing.”

“He’s a good pilot,” Keith said fondly, wiping his hair from his eyes.

_What a difference a few years makes_ , Shiro thought, brought back to the first adventure the paladins all embarked on together with Lance at the helm. The flight was so out of control his passengers barely managed to keep their footing. Shiro held onto Keith for most of it.

The memory made him smile.

“Okay, all done. She’s ready to go.” Setting a hand on his hip and the other on the handlebar, he shot Shiro a grin. “Wanna go for a spin, old timer?”

Shiro huffed a laugh. “Nah. Curtis would be pissed if I came home covered in dust right before dinner.”

Keith hopped down, a cloud of dirt puffing up around his feet. “You can blame me. Just say I’m a bad influence. Curtis already thinks so anyway.”

“I’m not sure we should be giving him another reason,” Shiro said, voice lowering with a tinge of annoyance.

Raising a brow, Keith gave an awkward laugh. “I was just kidding.”

Shiro pursed his lips. “So was I.”

“Does Curtis think I’m a bad influence on you?” Keith crossed his arms, leaning back on the hoverbike. He grinned like he was amused. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Of course not.”

“So why’d you say so?”

“It’s just - I get so frustrated with him sometimes, you know?” Shiro carded his fingers through his hair. “He gets so weird when it comes to you. But it’s not just you, it’s anything that disrupts our perfect little life.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Keith looked like he’d been slapped. “He thinks I disrupt your life?”

“It’s - it’s not _you,_ it’s space, and adventure, and all the stuff that used to be our thing, y’know? And I mean, I get it to an extent, because he’s just worried about me, but it’s so _frustrating_.”

With every word, Keith’s face fell. “That sounds frustrating.”

“And it’s like - I’ve already resigned from my job, I’ve settled down. What more does he want from me?” Letting it all loose was too easy when Keith was around. There was no one else Shiro wanted to talk to about it.

Keith’s mouth formed a tight line. “I dunno, Shiro.”

Whether or not Keith intended it, his answer dripped disinterest, or even mild annoyance. Shiro frowned. “What is it?”

Keith sighed. “Nothing. Continue.”

“No, I wanna know.”

Looking anywhere but at him, Keith said, “It’s just... Shiro, do you even love him?”

“Excuse me?” The suggestion took him by surprise. Behind them, storm clouds crawled ever closer to the city. Keith’s back was turned to them, but Shiro could see for miles.

“I’ve been away for two months and you can’t go five minutes without complaining about your husband,” Keith said, “And it’s been this way the last few times I’ve been here. I’m happy to be the person you talk to about all this if that’s what you need me to be, but can’t I at least hear about your life first?”

“This _is_ my life, Keith.”

“Then I’ll ask again: do you even love him?”

Shiro bristled at the question. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be trying so hard to keep this marriage together if I didn’t.”

Keith’s voice remained calm. “You shouldn’t _have_ to try so hard, Shiro.”

“That’s just not realistic.”

“Do you have to bend over backwards for me? For Matt, or any of the paladins?” Keith swiped a hand through his hair, on the edge of exasperated. “Look, Shiro, you’re my best friend. I care about your happiness and it just doesn’t seem like you’re happy.”

“Of course I’m happy,” Shiro snapped, “Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

“I dunno, maybe because all the life updates I’ve gotten from you for the past six months have been about how unhappy you are?”

Shiro scoffed. “Keith, I appreciate your concern, but everything is fine.”

Keith pushed off of the hoverbike, taking a step closer. “But everything isn’t fine, Shiro, that’s the point. Whenever I visit you act like everything is fine when we’re around Curtis and then we get out here and you don’t have anything good to say.”

The reasonable part of Shiro knew Keith didn’t mean it as an attack. The irrational part of Shiro was quicker. “You know what I think?” Shiro said, seething. “I don’t think you ever liked Curtis. I think you wanted this relationship to fail.”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“You’ve never liked him-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Shiro,” Keith said, somehow managing to reign in his anger. Considering his temper, Shiro would have been impressed by Keith’s manufactured calm if it wasn’t so frustrating. “Sure, I was skeptical when you rushed into marrying this guy. But I _never_ wanted to see you fail at anything, and it’s insulting that you would even think that.”

Shiro opened his mouth, but Keith didn’t let a word in. “You are my best friend. I’ve supported you through everything. I was your best man, for fuck’s sake! And I never said a word when he talked you into resigning-”

“He didn’t talk me into anything-”

The calm cracked. “Yes he fucking did, Shiro. That job was your dream. Being out in space, helping people, seeing new planets and going on adventures, that was your _dream_.”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed. “I resigned for mental health reasons, Keith.”

But Keith wouldn’t know that. Keith wasn’t there.

“And he’s the one who put the idea in your head _in the first place._ Are you actually happier staying here on Earth forever? Because if you are, just say so.”

“I did what I had to do.”

“So that’s a no?”

Shiro huffed, but gave no response. He wasn’t willing to admit to himself that he was miserable. Admitting it to Keith was an impossibility.

Keith’s eyes darkened, jaw tight. “Do you know how long the trip here is from Daibazaal?”

Shiro scoffed. “Keith-”

“It’s thirty-six hours, Shiro. Which is leagues better than the years it would’ve taken before we started integrating Altean tech with ours. Pidge says they’re on the brink of reducing that number down to twelve with the new hyperdrive tech they’re working on, but ever since the Lions left it’s been thirty-six hours. And I’ve made that trip happily every time because it means I get to see my friends and I get to see you. How many times have you come to see me on Daibazaal, Shiro?”

“That’s what this is about?”

“Not once. You haven’t come to visit me _once_ because your husband would want to come with you, and apparently that’s a bad thing? Lance and Hunk have been to see the house twice already, Pidge has basically claimed the guest bedroom for whenever she’s got a conference nearby. You won’t come visit me because of him, you gave up your dream because of him, you’re _miserable_ because of him, so you know what? You’re right. I don’t fucking like him.”

Shiro waved a hand as if he’d expected as much, but the fight had left him. All that was left was exhaustion. “The truth comes out.”

“But I have never wanted your relationship to fail, Shiro. _Never._ ” Keith was so earnest, it tore at Shiro’s heart. “I care too much about you to ever feel like that. Why would you think that?”

Regret settled in instantly. “It’s… I just…”

Keith’s eyes bored into him, unrelenting. “Shiro,” he said, slower, “Why would you think that?”

“I was - I was just frustrated and I took it out on you.” Shiro was backpedaling, but a part of him knew he wasn’t getting out of this. Keith handed him the opportunity to come clean and Shiro might as well have smacked his hand away. “I didn’t mean it.”

The realization struck Keith no matter what Shiro said. It must have been written on his face, or maybe Keith just knew him too well to fall for his excuses. Keith sucked in a breath, biting his lip. “Do you remember it?”

“Keith, I…”

“How long have you remembered?”

Shiro wiped a hand over his face. “Remember how we stayed in Black together for a bit after you brought me back, but then I moved to the Green Lion?”

Shiro saw the moment Keith shut him out. “No.”

“Keith-” Desperate, Shiro took a small step closer. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Keith’s voice was strained, the words choked.

Shame reddened Shiro’s cheeks and weighed on his shoulders. “I - I didn’t know what to say.”

“So you just - you just let it sit? You just decided not to say anything at all? Shiro, I haven’t talked to _anyone_ about this. It’s been eating me alive.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said again, taking another step closer, “I wanted to say something, but something always came up. I know I should’ve told you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Keith, please.” Shiro rubbed circles into his aching temple. “There was never a good opportunity. Once I moved to Green we didn’t catch each other alone a lot, and then when we got back to Earth we were always working, and when the Atlas launched it was just more of the same.”

“We could’ve set aside time to talk.” Keith was right, and that made it worse. “And if that was so hard, why couldn’t you at _least_ say something when the war was over?”

When the war was over, Keith took off to help rebuild Daibazaal and string together the fragments of the Galran civilization. When the war was over, Keith was only available on rare occasions, and the rest of his time was spent galavanting through space being a hero while Shiro sorted out trivial diplomatic issues. When the war was over, Shiro was left turning to someone else for the comfort Keith used to provide when his trauma became too real.

Shiro could have tried harder, and he knew that much was true. But when the war was over, Keith _wasn’t there._

Shiro finally snapped. “Because you left, Keith! You were always commuting between Earth and Daibazaal and whatever planet you were trying to save that day. Fuck, I barely got to see you when you still technically lived here. When was I supposed to tell you? You were always gone.”

“You should’ve told me _when you remembered_ ,” Keith said, patience worn thin, “Instead of letting this continue and forcing us both to deal with this alone.”

Shiro opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again as the words caught in his throat. He prayed Keith wouldn’t catch the guilt in his eyes before he could shift them down, but he knew better than that.

Keith always noticed.

“Shiro,” he said, voice low, “Did you talk to someone about our fight?”

“I…” Shiro raised his hand to rub the back of his neck. “I used to get nightmares about it all the time, alright? When I started dating Curtis-”

“You told _Curtis_?”

“Who else was I gonna tell, Keith?”

“Me! You were supposed to tell me! I can’t believe this, I-” Keith froze, a flash of fear in his eyes. “Did you tell him what I said to you?”

“No,” Shiro said without hesitation, “No, I would never. That wasn’t for me to share.”

“But you could use it to accuse me of being jealous enough to try to break up your relationship.” Keith’s hand covered his mouth and he turned his back on Shiro.

Shiro tried to close the gap, setting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Keith, please, I was just frustrated and I said something I didn’t mean.”

“Don’t,” Keith said, wrenching himself away as he spun back around, eyes wild and pained. “You still said it. You took something personal and you twisted it, and I just -” He shook his head, searching Shiro’s face. “Who are you?”

A tightness seized Shiro’s throat. “What?”

“I feel like I don’t know you anymore,” Keith said, taking a step back and stopping abruptly as his back hit the hoverbike. “I think… I think I gotta go.”

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice broke on the name, tears pressing at the backs of his eyes. “Please, I - I’m so sorry. If I could do everything differently, I would.”

By now the setting sun had painted the world an ominous red that gleamed in Keith’s eyes as the storm behind him closed in. “Were you ever going to talk to me?” Keith asked, gaze intense on Shiro as if he intended to pull the answer out one way or another.

To add on to his self-hatred, Shiro hesitated. “Of course.”

Biting his lip, Keith nodded. He bent to pick up the toolbox and set it on the back of the hoverbike. “Wow. Okay. I need to go.”

“Where are you going?” Shiro asked.

Keith wouldn’t look at him. “Home, I guess.”

“You came all the way out here,” Shiro said, pleading, “At least wait until the morning.”

“No, I need to go. I can’t be around you right now.”

“What can I do?”

Keith walked past him, nearly bumping shoulders. “Call me when you’re ready to talk about it. About everything. Better yet, come to Daibazaal and talk to me in person.”

Shiro spun to watch him go. “Keith, where are you going?”

“For a walk. To clear my head.”

Shiro stepped after him. “Keith, wait.”

Keith spun back around, finally meeting his eyes. As long as Shiro had known him, Keith had never been a crier. He didn’t even shed a tear when they lost Allura.

He looked near his breaking point. “For the record, I am _not_ in love with you. Just so we’re clear.”

It stopped Shiro in his tracks, and as Keith turned back and walked into the desert, he couldn’t gather the courage to chase after him. He tried, once, to call after him, to ask him to come back, but Keith never turned around. He became a silhouette against the dying sun, shrinking until he was gone from view completely and Shiro was left alone in the dark.

Uncommon raindrops felt cool on his skin as they mixed with the salt of his tears. Shiro wiped at his face in vain, grateful for the moment alone if only so he could feel as openly as he needed. He leaned against Keith’s bike and cried, his shoulders shaking with it. Everything, _everything_ he’d done, he did wrong, and it cost him the person who meant more to him than he could say.

It was the end of an era after all, and it broke Shiro’s heart.

Gathering himself before the rain could fall into an unforgiving downpour, he allowed himself one last hopeful look to the horizon in search of that missing silhouette.

But there was nothing. Keith was gone, again, and Shiro was left behind. He did so much of it to himself, yet he couldn’t fight back the bitterness.

When he could breathe again, it was the bitterness that carried him home.

* * *

The bed felt too cold without Keith in it.

Shiro was never much of a romantic when it came to relationships. He never felt the need to stay in bed with someone he loved and hold them while they slept, share their warmth, feel the rhythmic beating of their heart. There was so much to do in a day, so little time to do it.

But he wanted Keith in that bed with him. He wanted the feel of his slight frame pressed against his body. It had only been a few minutes since Keith left, and Shiro missed the way he fit in his arms, like he belonged there. They _belonged_ in that bed.

At least he had the promise of no regrets. Whatever else happened, at least they had that.

Pulling himself together was a slower process than it should’ve been. Midway through his shower the water began to feel too hot, the pressure too hard. The hum of the Black Lion’s engine was too loud. The lights, when at full power, were too bright. His undersuit felt tight and constricting, and when he stepped out of the Black Lion to greet the others, the world felt too real.

He wondered, as his eyes struggled to adjust to the light, if he was getting sick.

The others were gathered in a cluster in the space between the lions. Keith was among them, his back turned to the Black Lion, holding his helmet on his hip. He’d done his hair in a braided bun, and as the others saw Shiro he turned to follow their attention. As usual, locks of hair fell into his face, but his smile as he and Shiro met eyes was soft, and the sight of him made something in Shiro’s heart sing.

“Hey,” Keith said. His voice sounded far away. “We were just figuring out the game plan.”

“Great,” Shiro said, “What are we thinking?”

“If we can travel another twelve hours straight without running into any issues, we’ll be in pretty good shape to make it back into Coalition territory tomorrow,” Pidge said, setting her datapad to its holo setting so they all could see. “But judging by last night, we might not get that lucky. And in the instance that we run into trouble at the very end, like we did last night, I’m recommending we actually make an extra stop and let the Lions recharge a bit during the day.”

“We’ll get a shorter break for sleeping, but it might be worth it to have that bit of extra power in case we need it,” Keith said, “Especially if the Knights attack the next planet we decide to stop on.”

“We don’t need twelve hours to sleep, so breaking up the day will probably be better for us anyway,” Lance said, “We can land somewhere halfway through and rest for an hour or two and then get going again.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Shiro said, “What’s our heading?”

“The planet Altres,” Pidge said, “It has an atmosphere similar to Earth’s. Mostly animal inhabitants, with occasional humanoid visitors like us. Should be about seven hours.”

Shiro tugged at the neck of his undersuit, feeling increasingly lightheaded. “Okay. We should get started then.”

“I’ve got some breakfasts prepared for everyone,” Hunk said, handing out little wrapped bundles. “We’ll want to eat once we’re back in our Lions since the air out here isn’t the best.”

“Shiro.” Keith’s voice cut through the haze, and when Shiro looked his way he was met with only genuine concern. “Are you okay?”

“Just - feeling a little lightheaded,” Shiro responded, rubbing his temple and taking a deep breath.

“The oxygen out here is spread pretty thin.” Pidge frowned. “Maybe you just need to get back inside.”

Keith took a small step closer. “Why don’t you put your helmet on for now.”

Shiro nodded, pulling the helmet on and feeling immediately claustrophobic. Keith was still watching him, the others watching Keith, so Shiro smiled to reassure him. “It’ll be fine, guys.”

“We should head out,” Pidge said, “Maximize our travel time.”

“Everyone to your Lions,” Shiro said, “We’ll take off in five.”

They split off, but as Shiro reached the Black Lion, a hand on his elbow held him back. Keith stood to his side, brow furrowed.

“Hey,” he said, “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem a little off.”

“I feel a little off,” Shiro admitted, “It’s been a while since I’ve been out in space for this long. Might just be my body reacting to the change. I’m sure it’s nothing, Keith.”

Judging from his expression, Keith was unconvinced, but he let go. “Okay. Let us know if you need anything. We can stop early if we have to.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Shiro said, but as Keith held his gaze, he added, “But if it is, I’ll say something.”

Keith nodded, turning away. “I’ll see you, then.”

Shiro stepped after him. “Keith-”

Surprise glimmered in Keith’s eyes as he turned back again. “Yeah?”

“I like your hair like that,” Shiro said with a gentle smile. “It looks good.”

A dusting of pink bloomed in Keith’s cheeks as he reached an unconscious hand to the bun. “Oh,” he said, a smile spreading across his lips. “Thanks, Shiro.”

Parting ways, Shiro stepped into the Black Lion and made his way to the small kitchen space, unwrapping the breakfast Hunk had prepared for them on the way. It was near gone by the time he reached his destination, snatching a glass for water. Out of habit, his hand searched for a bottle of pills and landed on nothing.

And everything made sense.

* * *

Seven hours felt faster with so much on Keith’s mind.

Between his project and everything that had happened with Shiro, Keith had no trouble finding something to keep himself occupied. The two often overlapped, with thoughts of Shiro creeping in and derailing his concentration until he was left hopelessly doodling hearts on his datapad.

A year and a half of pushing Shiro from his mind couldn’t turn the love off. One night made it stronger than ever.

He was so fucked.

When they reached Altres, Pidge scanned the surface for a clearing. The planet itself was mostly ocean, with only a small number of islands inhabited by amphibious creatures that could easily survive the flood season. They found an island large enough for the five Lions and set down, and as Keith stepped out of Red, Shiro was standing outside of Black, watching him as if he’d been waiting. He fixed his posture, smiling as he stepped out to meet Keith halfway. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Keith said, “How’s your head?”

“It’s just one of those days,” Shiro said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll be fine.”

Keith’s brow furrowed, but he wouldn’t push. “Do you want to talk?”

Shiro’s features softened, and he gave a gentle nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” Keith said, beginning to move towards the Black Lion. He barely managed a step before, from seemingly nowhere, Lance appeared at his side and nearly knocked him over as he threw an arm around Keith’s shoulders.

“Hey, buddy,” Lance said, giving a toothy grin. “Shiro, do you mind if I borrow him for a sec?”

Shiro blinked, baffled. “Uh -”

“Lance, I kinda need to talk to Shiro about something,” Keith said.

“My thing’s more important. You can talk later.” Giving Keith no choice, Lance dragged him aside. Keith spun once over his shoulder to offer an apologetic glance Shiro’s way, while Shiro was left with his mouth frozen into a stunned ‘o’, alone at the foot of the Black Lion.

They were well hidden among the tropical trees when Keith finally wrenched himself free of Lance’s grip. “What the _hell_ , Lance?”

“What happened with you and Shiro last night?” Lance said, crossing his arms and popping a hip.

Keith scoffed. “What?”

“What. Happened.”

“We went for a walk and the moon exploded, I thought everyone was on the same page about that,” Keith said, avoiding Lance’s gaze.

“You _both_ went heart eyes for each other this morning and it couldn’t have been more obvious.”

Eyes narrowing, Keith crossed his arms in a defensive stance. “Excuse me?”

“I haven’t seen you two like that in years,” Lance said, “You were distant with him yesterday, and now this? Something changed. Did you finally talk out your shit?”

“I don’t need this,” Keith said, making a move to step around Lance.

Lance caught his elbow. “I’m worried about you. I saw what the fight did to you. I know how badly you hurt. You were there for me after Allura, I’m just trying to be here for you now.”

“I don’t _need_ anyone to be here for me,” Keith said. “Nothing’s going on.”

“So you didn’t talk out your shit.” Lance furrowed his brow, taking a step closer. “I waited for a little bit to check on you after the battle. I figured you’d step out of Black at some point and I could just make sure you were okay. But you never came back out.”

A chill rushed down Keith’s spine. Unable to think of a word to say, he looked to the side.

“Keith.” Lance’s voice was low, dangerous. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

Violet eyes flicked towards Lance and away again. Keith squeezed them shut, ripping his arm out of Lance’s grip, but made no attempt to leave. “Fuck off, Lance.”

“He’s married.”

“He left.”

“Less than a _week_ ago.”

“I love him,” Keith said, voice breaking. “I’ve loved him for so long I don’t know how to stop. And if I don’t make it to the end of this, at least let me have this one thing.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

Taking a breath, Keith stepped to the side, leaning against a tree and sliding down to the sand. “You saw what I saw, Lance. When you get Allura back, I’m not there.”

Lance crouched beside him, brow furrowed and eyes soft. “That doesn’t mean you won’t make it to the end of this.”

Propping his elbow on a knee, Keith dropped his head into his hand. “It doesn’t exactly bode well.”

“Keith, we didn’t chase you across the universe just to finish this mission without you,” Lance said. He settled a hand on Keith’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re gonna be there. We’ll make sure of it.”

“I appreciate the thought, Lance. I do.”

“But you don’t believe me.”

“I didn’t believe Shiro when he said it either, if it’s any consolation.”

“Okay, listen,” Lance said, and waited until Keith turned to look at him. “You don’t have to believe me. But if you think you’re running out of time, you need to work things out with him. And I don’t just mean about last night, I mean everything. The fight has been hurting you for too long and you deserve some closure. I won’t judge you for whatever you decide to do, but please don’t let this go on without talking. You deserve that much.”

Keith swallowed and looked away. “Thanks, Lance.”

“What are friends for?” Lance said with a smile, shaking his shoulder before letting go and sitting in the sand beside him. “As long as we’re talking about it, I gotta ask… how big is it?”

Keith snorted. “Dude.”

Lance laughed. “What? I’m curious, okay?”

“Big,” Keith said, fighting back a smug grin.

“Okay, but how big are we talking here? Like, proportional or monster cock?”

Shoving Lance’s shoulder, Keith bust out laughing. “ _Dude._ ”

“ _What?_ ” Lance said through his own laughter, dragging out the vowel. “I’m just fulfilling my duties as the nosy friend.”

“I need to talk to Shiro.” Keith stood, turning to offer his hand to Lance.

Lance took it, and Keith heaved him back onto his feet, holding onto his arm another moment longer.

“Lance,” he said, “I need you to keep this between us, okay?”

“You’re really gonna keep this a secret?”

“At least for now,” Keith said. He worried his lip between his teeth. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen. And I know they would react like you did, and I don’t want to get into it until Shiro and I have actually figured out what we’re doing about this - about us.”

Lance sighed. “Just be careful, Keith. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I know.” Keith let go of Lance’s arm, only holding eye contact another moment before they both turned back for camp. But by the time they reached the others, Hunk had already finished their snacks, and Pidge was mid conversation with Shiro about something tech-related that he probably only half-grasped.

Shiro met his eye as Keith and Lance approached the camp and smiled in apology. Keith felt Lance’s gaze on him as he set a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and sat beside him. When their meal was over, Hunk dragged them all down to the beaches to see the animals that lived by the water. Keith never managed to steal even a minute of time alone with Shiro, and he tried not to think about the cruel irony of their situation - of both wanting to talk and having no time, compared to a year and a half of avoiding each other despite having all the time in the world.

“Wow, look at this guy,” Lance said, crouching over a creature that looked similar to a bullfrog with a more pointed face. “Hey there, buddy. Hey Keith, it kinda looks like you-”

The creature lunged, attaching itself to Lance’s face and holding on. Lance’s shriek was muffled by the creature’s belly and he fell over, and the paladins laughed, Hunk and Pidge bending to help him. With their attention turned away, Keith felt a hand brush the back of his neck, fingers playing with the hairs that strayed from his bun. Though the touch lasted only a moment, time slowed for it, the single mercy they were granted. Keith turned his head as Shiro pulled away again, offering his hand to Lance.

They met eyes, and understood each other without words.

_Tonight_.

* * *

“Are you certain this decision is wise, Krolia?”

The ship was ready, as were their teams. The navigation systems were set, the plans were made. Krolia, in her senior Blade uniform, looked so much like her son it was uncanny. She held his blade close to her, in its dagger form, and Kolivan caught her checking the symbol on the hilt every so often. The soft glow seemed to be her only source of comfort.

“The Knights of Daibazaal have done enough damage to warrant an attack,” Krolia said, “Sionus may not be a Coalition planet, but it houses Blades. We are well within our rights to defend ourselves.”

“I agree,” Kolivan said, “But we have had difficulties contacting the Coalition Headquarters on Altea, which suggests something is amiss. If we go now, we risk leaving Daibazaal vulnerable.”

“I was able to speak with Coran briefly,” Krolia said, “It may just be a problem with the satellites. I’m sure the Coalition is working on it.”

“Krolia.” Kolivan reached out and took her by the elbow. At last she looked away from the blade and met his gaze. “I fear for Keith as well. But we know that he is alive, and that the paladins are most likely with him. Perhaps we should focus on the threats facing our planet.”

Krolia’s eyes narrowed, and she pulled her arm back. “That’s exactly what this is, Kolivan. We are going to stop the Knights from invading anymore planets.”

“You and I both know this is a rescue mission,” Kolivan said, “The Knights are only secondary.”

“The Knights must be stopped. A direct attack should do the trick just fine, and I see no harm in rescuing my child while I’m at it.”

Kolivan knew he could not understand her pain, not fully. He had no children to speak of. Keith was hers, and that loss was immeasurable.

But he grieved with her. Kolivan recognized her blade the moment it was pulled off of Keith the day of his Trials. He trained the boy, bandaged his wounds, taught him what he could. He grew anxious when Keith was gone too long, exasperated when he arrived at the last possible minute. He kept a tight lip after Naxzela, caught between pride for Keith’s willingness to do whatever it took to win the day and horror for what they had almost lost.

He worried when Keith disappeared, each time Keith disappeared.

Keith was Krolia’s in every way. He was strong, courageous, emotional. He was honorable and believed in justice. His patience was learned. Keith might not have been his own, and Kolivan was certainly not his father, but he loved Keith like one. He loved Keith because Keith was Krolia’s so clearly, unquestionably, from the beginning.

And while she wanted nothing more than to bring him home, Kolivan had faith he would find his way. They always did.

But he needed a home to come back to.

“I cannot join you on this mission,” Kolivan said at last, “I cannot leave Daibazaal defenseless.”

Krolia made little effort to hide her disappointment. She clutched the blade tighter. “I see.”

“I hope you understand.” Kolivan’s frown was deep. “And I wish you luck on your journey.”

Eyes searching his face, Krolia considered him for a long, agonizing moment. “Thank you, Kolivan,” she said at last with a nod, and turned her back on him.

Mouth pressed into a fine line, Kolivan turned on his heel and strode from the ship into the hangar. As the engines hummed on and they prepared for launch, he made his way to the viewing platform, turning a corner and nearly colliding with another.

“Sir!” Lieutenant Sek said, straightening his posture and giving the Galra salute, pounding his fist to his chest. “My apologies.”

Kolivan stared at the gesture, brow furrowed. Some of the Galran recruits still used the greeting out of habit, but it was still strange to see from a fellow Blade. Kolivan attempted to step around him. “Excuse me, Lieutenant.”

“Forgive me, sir,” Sek said, and Kolivan paused. “Has the mission to Sionus been delayed? I thought the launch was happening shortly.”

“The mission is continuing as planned,” Kolivan said, “I will remain on Daibazaal.”

Sek blinked. “I see. I will not take anymore of your time, sir.” He bowed his head and continued on his way.

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Kolivan watched him go.

* * *

The paladins stopped for the night on a dwarf planet at the edge of the Docomian System. It was the only planetary body in the system with enough oxygen to sustain human life, and also the only one with a solid surface; everything else was a treacherous gas giant.

It was the perfect place to rest.

The Red Lion’s lights were dimmed as Keith sprawled in the pilot’s seat, working vigorously on his datapad. Assuming he was translating any of it correctly, his progress with Honerva’s notes was better than expected. Another day of travel should have been enough to get through the last of it.

The Red Lion prodded at Keith’s mind, and he sat up to peer through the glass screen. Shiro stood in the clearing ahead, waving with a small smile. He’d changed into the Blade of Marmora flight suit he’d been wearing for Keith’s rescue, and the sight tugged Keith’s lips into a smile of his own. He’d changed out of his armor as well, seeking the comfort of Shiro’s hoodie instead.

“We can let him in,” Keith said to Red, “He’s good.”

Red responded with a purr and set down to allow Shiro entrance.

Keith closed out the screens with his work, shutting off his datapad as Shiro reached the cockpit. He stood in time for Shiro to take his face into his hands and pull him in for a kiss.

The surprise lasted only a moment, and then Keith was kissing him back, hands curling into the front of his flight suit.

“I’ve been waiting all day to do that,” Shiro murmured as he pulled away.

“Hello to you, too.” Keith flattened his palms over Shiro’s chest, flirtatious grin teasing at his lips. “You look good in my colors.”

“You’re one to talk,” Shiro said, nosing at Keith’s jaw. “Been driving me crazy in my old hoodie. Just wanna rip it off of you.”

“Shiro!” He was half tempted to let this continue, to keep ignoring the important conversations and see where this would take them.

But the reasonable part of him won that battle. He had Lance to thank for that. Hands at his chest, Keith gently pushed Shiro back an inch. “We should talk.”

Shiro searched his face before leaning back with a nod. “We should.”

Keith settled back onto the arm of the pilot’s chair, taking a deep breath. “You should know that Lance knows what happened last night.”

Shiro’s eyes widened. “You told him?”

Keith shook his head. “He figured it out. Apparently we aren’t subtle.”

Lips pursed, Shiro nodded. “I’m guessing he doesn’t approve.”

“He’s my friend.” Keith shrugged. “He’s been there for me through a lot, y’know? He’s just worried about me. Gave me some more to think about.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Keith worried at his bottom lip. “Shiro, if anything is gonna come out of this, I need to know that you’re in it as much as I am.”

“I am,” Shiro said, reaching to take Keith’s hand between both of his.

Keith’s gaze was piercing. “Can you promise me that when all of this is over there is no chance, none at all, that you will even consider going back to your husband?”

“I-” His eyes widened, as though the question had come as a surprise. A beat passed, and then he frowned. “I guess I haven’t thought about it.”  

It was _all_ Keith could think about.

Giving a self-deprecating smile, he pulled his hand back, curling both into fists as he crossed his arms over himself. “A non-answer is still an answer, Shiro.”

“No - Keith, hang on a second.” Taking a small step closer, Shiro settled his hands on Keith’s shoulders. “I just - everything has been happening so fast. A week ago I was still telling myself that I was happily married. Now I know better.”

It wasn’t as reassuring as Shiro must have meant it to be. “But you could still change your mind.”

Shiro sighed. “Keith, I stayed with Curtis for as long as I did out of stubbornness. I did love him, at one point, but I don’t know if I can say I still do. If he asked to try to work things out, I don’t think I could say yes anymore. We were so unhappy for so long. It only took one night with you to make me realize how unhappy I was with him.”

Despite himself, Keith gave a crooked smile. “It was a pretty good night.”

“It was amazing, Keith,” Shiro said, hands shifting to cup his jaw.

Keith circled his fingers around Shiro’s wrist, thumb stroking the back of his hand. “I need to protect myself here, Shiro. We were apart for so long, and it was devastating. I waited for you to call and you never did.”

Touching his forehead to Keith’s, Shiro closed his eyes. “I picked up the phone so many times, Keith. I was never brave enough.”

“That’s why I need to hear you say it now,” Keith said, “I can’t go through that again, Shiro.”

Shiro pulled back enough to look into Keith’s eyes as he said, “I only want you. Just you. I promise.”

Pressure pricked at the backs of Keith’s eyes. Throat tight, he said, “You mean that?”

“Yes,” Shiro said, “I think I’ve wanted you for a long time. I’ve just been too stupid to realize it. Now that I have you, there’s no way I’m letting you go.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” Before Shiro could act, Keith curled his fingers into the collar of the flight suit and dragged him in. If Shiro had any objections, he didn’t make them known. Shiro’s lips met Keith’s smile and Keith felt the tension ease out of them both.

Everything was okay. They would be okay.

Arms wrapping around Keith, Shiro lifted him away from the chair to press him closer. They kissed and kissed, only stopping when Keith slipped his hand into Shiro’s to lead him from the cockpit to the cargo bay. The Red Lion, being so much smaller than Black, had less room for living and the bed space was little more than a small side area with a mattress on the floor and a closet-sized bathroom.

But it was enough.

Kicking off their shoes, Keith and Shiro set to work undressing each other. Keith’s hands fumbled with the zipper down the front of the Blade of Marmora flight suit, while Shiro unbuttoned Keith’s jeans and yanked them down. Beneath the flight suit Shiro wore a white undershirt, comfortably loose. Keith shoved the suit down past his hips until Shiro could step out of it, and they moved onto the bed together. Shiro kissed him until his lips started to swell, his finger finding the tie in Keith’s hair and pulling it loose.

When they broke apart, Shiro asked, “Do you have…?”

Keith’s eyes widened. In the Black Lion, he knew exactly where he’d kept all of his things, but in Red -

“Let me check,” Keith said, kissing Shiro once, twice as he stood and rushed to the bathroom.

A tiny basket of Lance’s things hung off of a rack above the sink. As Keith fiddled through them, the realization hit that most of them were alien products, and only a handful of the labels were in Galran - the only alien language Keith had any real grasp of. He poked his head back out into the bedroom, where Shiro was waiting in his underwear, legs crossed, brow up.

“Just one sec,” Keith said, rushing back across the room to the door. On his way, he could swear he saw Shiro sporting an amused grin out of the corner of his eye.

He found his datapad in the cockpit and hurried back, ignoring Shiro’s confused stares as he shut the bathroom door. Setting the device to video call, he selected one of the products and waited.

Lance answered on the third ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What is this?” Keith asked, holding up the bottle.

Lance squinted. “That’s conditioner. Why?”

Keith didn’t bother to answer him, tossing the bottle aside and shifting through the basket again. He found another bottle, squinted at it, and then held it up. “And this?”

“That’s a moisturizer,” Lance said. He frowned and reached behind him to rub the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t use it, though. It kinda made me break out. Are you looking for something specific?”

“Maybe,” Keith said, setting the bottle with the other one and returning to the basket. Along the bottom he felt a small packet, and as he lifted it up his eyes narrowed. “Are these condoms?”

“Yep.”

“They’re green.”

“They’re alien condoms, dude.”

Keith set them on the sink and made one last dive into the basket, pulling out a small tube with a label across the front that seemed like what he needed, except -

“What the hell is this, Lance?”

On the screen, Lance squinted to get a better look. Realization struck, and he struggled not to laugh. “Yeah, that’s lube.”

“It’s _glow-in-the-dark._ ”

“What’s your point?” Lanced asked, voice shaking with uncontainable chortles.

“What the _fuck_ were you doing in my Lion?”

Lance snorted. “I got that stuff as a joke, dude. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it off your hands.”

Keith curled his fist around the tube, expression falling blank. “I’m keeping it.”

Smirking, Lance cocked his head to the side. “What do you need glow lube for, Keith?”

“Nothing,” Keith said flatly, and quickly disconnected the call before Lance could launch into an interrogation, or tease him about Shiro, or both. Setting the datapad down, he gathered the condoms and the lube and stepped back into the bedroom. “I’m gonna kill Lance.”

“Oh boy,” Shiro said, sitting up straighter and staring between the items in Keith’s hands.

“All I got is green condoms,” Keith said, stopping just short of the bed, “And glowing lube.”

Shiro blinked, mouth twisting with amusement. Wiping his hand over his face, his shoulders shook with the laughter he wasn’t able to restrain, despite his best efforts.

The reaction put Keith at ease, and he breathed out a laugh, lowering his hands. “I don’t care if you don’t care.”

Shifting onto his knees, Shiro reached for him. “I don’t care.”

“I’m not afraid of radioactive dick,” Keith said, stepping closer.

Shiro curled his fist into the front of the hoodie and tugged Keith to his knees. “C’mere.”

A laugh escaped him, and he set the items aside to let Shiro pull the hoodie over his head. It was discarded on the floor with the rest of their clothes, and Shiro’s undershirt was next to join them. Laughter lingered on their lips as they kissed, bodies shaking from it, and nothing had ever tasted so sweet. Shiro moved to cover him, peppering kisses over his face to draw out the joyful sounds, and Keith found himself brought back to the previous night, to the moment when every worry was forgotten in place of Shiro.

_So this is what it feels like_.

* * *

Shiro was in love with Keith.

There was no more denying it. His biggest regret was taking so damn long to figure it out. Better late than never, he supposed, but watching Keith struggle to stay awake as Shiro cleaned them up, hearing his soft hum at Shiro’s touch, feeling him shift to stay close when Shiro moved away… it did something to him. It twisted a knot around his heart and kept him tethered to this amazing, brave, beautiful man.

In Shiro’s brief absence from the bed, Keith had found his undershirt in the haphazard pile of their clothes and tugged it on. It was on the right side of too big, the neck hole dipping over his tattooed shoulder. It meant that when Shiro returned he could dip his head and kiss the inked stars until Keith whined. “Shiro…”

“You feeling okay?” Shiro asked as he settled onto his side next to Keith, slipping his human arm atop his stomach.

“You kidding?” Keith took Shiro’s hand into his own and lifted it to his lips. It made Shiro’s heart flip over itself in a somersault. “Never better. How’s your head?”

It had been aching most of the day, actually. Until now.

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” Shiro bent to kiss Keith’s temple and felt his happy sigh. “I’m gonna get a glass of water. Do you want anything?”

“I’ll just steal some from you,” Keith said, “There’s some cups in the cabinet behind the mirror in the bathroom.” As Shiro slipped back out of bed, Keith added, “Could you bring my datapad? I have a feeling I’m gonna need to set an alarm.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Shiro took in the image of Keith slipping into sleep, so utterly exhausted he might as well have become one with the bed. “Wiped out, huh?”

“Don’t sound so smug, I was up late last night.”

Shiro huffed a laugh with a shake of his head and stepped into the bathroom, taking a cup from the cabinet to fill with cold water. The datapad sat at an uneasy angle across the basket above the sink, screen unlit. As his fingers touched the screen, it came to life, and he wouldn’t have paid much mind if it wasn’t for the familiar handwriting scrawled across the screen.

A fond smile bloomed as Shiro scrolled over the document, the page number popping into the corner to reveal that Keith had managed to write out well over a hundred pages of translations. “Shit, Keith,” Shiro said under his breath. Pages containing columns from Altean glyphs to Galran to English merged into entire sections of notes in Keith’s script, letters flowing into one another in the kind of mess only one familiar with the penmanship would be able to make out.

Years of deciphering Keith’s scribbling to help with his homework gave Shiro that familiarity. He smiled as he scrolled past doodled hearts, about to return to his task, when a set of letters and numbers he knew all too well caught his eye.

The world stopped turning.

Y0XT39. He recognized it better in the Galran language as the subject identification for his clone.

For him.

The section wasn’t fully translated. There were certain words pulled out, scribbled over, circled with question marks hovering above them. But others were written clearly. Obedient. Control. Cryostasis.

Nausea swirled in the pit of his stomach. His hands shook, hindering his ability to read any further. Moving back into the bedroom, Shiro met eyes with Keith and was unable to step any further.

Keith recognized the change, sitting straight up in bed with his brow furrowed. “Shiro?”

“What is this?” Shiro asked, almost a whisper.

Keith tossed the sheets aside and stepped to his side, eyes widening when he focused on the screen. “Oh - uh…”

“I thought you went to the clone facility looking for a way to find Allura,” Shiro said, voice shaking not from rage.

“I did.” If Keith’s calmness was an attempt not to escalate the conversation, it wasn’t working.

“Why do you have this, then?”

“You know almost nothing about your own body and Earth doctors don’t have the ability to figure out how to treat you without turning you into a science experiment,” Keith said, “I thought when all this was over I could send this to you on Earth and you could decide what you wanted to do with it.”

“You’ve had this for _days_ , and you said nothing to me?”

“We’ve had a lot going on the past few days if you hadn’t realized.” A frown strained Keith’s mask of composure. “I haven’t even fully translated it yet. It would’ve been useless to you.”

“Keith, this is my life! This is what I am!”

“Why are you yelling at me?” Turning, Keith faced him more fully. “I was always going to give this to you. I was never planning to keep it from you. We’ve just had a lot of other things going on and I didn’t think you needed to add this to your plate right now.”

“You should’ve told me you had this,” Shiro said, tossing the datapad onto the mattress and crossing his arms. The tremors spread through his entire body. It felt like shivers that wouldn’t stop. “I deserved to know.”

Something crossed Keith’s expression. His jaw clicked, and Shiro realized too late that he’d lost him. “I don’t think you can talk when it comes to keeping secrets, Shiro.”

His heart was so loud he could barely think straight over the sound of its pounding. This was it. He’d ruined it, so quickly, so easily. He’d ruined everything and Keith would never give him another chance. He didn’t deserve one.

Eyes narrowed, Shiro looked away from Keith in search of his flight suit. “I think I should go.”

“I think you should.”

He didn’t bother to ask for the undershirt back, slipping into the flight suit and ignoring the cold sting of the zipper on his bare chest. Stuffing his feet into his boots, he avoided Keith’s eye as he turned to go. “See you in the morning.”

“Bye.”

As he turned out of the room, he glanced over his shoulder once. Still standing in Shiro’s oversized shirt, Keith pulled the front to his nose and breathed in, eyes closed. He wrapped his arms tight around himself and turned his back to the door, and had Shiro been a better man he would have walked back in and apologized for everything; for yelling at him now, for keeping secrets from him then, for being too much of a coward to make things right all this time in between.

The Red Lion hummed in distress, and Shiro left.

* * *

Keith’s clothes were in the dryer down the stairs. Hunk set a timer so he wouldn’t forget them. But even dressed in Hunk’s t-shirt and sweats, both humorously too big for him, Keith wouldn’t stop shaking.

Romelle helped him dry his hair while Hunk heated up a quick soup. He loathed feeding his friend something so easy, but anything else would have taken too long, and it was already getting late. He carried the steaming bowl into the living room, where Keith and Romelle sat close together on the couch, and set it on the end table to cool. The mice had curled up beside them, cuddled close to their thighs.

“Okay,” Hunk said, taking the seat at Keith’s other side. “What happened, dude?”

“Me and Shiro had a... big argument,” Keith said weakly, “I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“You don’t have to talk about it.” Hunk pursed his lips, glancing around the room awkwardly. “It’s just - I’m worried about you, man. I’ve never seen you like this before. And you and him have always been Keith and Shiro, y’know? If something got between you guys, it has to be… well, pretty bad. And I’m here if you wanna get that off your chest.”

“We’re both here,” Romelle said, rubbing circles over his back.

Keith’s eyes lowered. “Thanks guys, but I really just… I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay. Wanna just watch some cartoons for a bit?” Hunk found the remote and unpaused the show they’d started prior to Keith’s arrival. The characters spoke in Japanese, with the lines written in English along the bottom of the screen.

“I didn’t know they made an anime, too,” Keith said, too blue to make it sound like casual conversation.

“This is the version they aired over in Japan. Apparently the one they aired here changed a _lot_. And you know I am a _huge_ fan, so I had to see the original.” Hunk squinted at the screen. “I haven’t seen this episode, though. I’m not actually sure what this one’s about, I missed the beginning.”

“Is that Shiro?” Keith asked with a raised brow. “I thought he died early on.”

“Episode 6, I remember because you refused to watch anymore with me after that,” Hunk said.

“I think it said this was his brother,” Romelle said.

“See?” Hunk said, smacking Keith’s back, “It’s not really Shiro’s character, then. Nothing to worry about.”

“No, no, it’s much more like Shiro’s clone!” Romelle said.

Keith flinched.

“Oh,” Romelle said when Hunk glared at her, “That probably wasn’t very helpful, was it?”

To make matters worse, the battle onscreen ended and the characters meant to represent Keith and Shiro took center stage, grasping hands as the subtitles translated their speech.

“ _My friend_ ,” Keith’s character said.

“ _Friend indeed_!” Shiro’s character said.

“How about we watch _anything_ else?” Hunk said, quickly snatching for the remote to turn the episode off.

“Actually, I think I just wanna eat and get some sleep,” Keith said, hugging himself.

Hunk’s shoulders dropped. “Are you sure, buddy?”

Keith gave a short nod. “Between the long trip and the fight with Shiro, I’m just… so tired.”

“Okay. We’ll let you get some sleep then.” Hunk took the bowl, feeling the outside to make sure it wasn’t still too hot to eat, and handed it to Keith, who settled it in his lap gratefully. “Just let us know if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith said. Slow, he finally looked up towards them. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“You’re always welcome, Keith.” Hunk set a hand on Keith’s thin shoulder and gave it a squeeze. The shifting weight on the cushions as he stood prompted the mice to run off, scurrying to their sleep space.

Romelle leaned to press a kiss to the top of his head, managing to pull the smallest of smiles from Keith’s chewed lips. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” Keith said again.

Pausing once in the hallway, Hunk looked back to where Keith sat alone, in Hunk’s too big clothes, no longer aware of anyone watching him. The masquerade fell and Keith’s devastation came into clear view as he curled into himself, taking only one mouthful of the soup before setting it down to rest his head in his hands. As far as Hunk could tell, he wasn’t crying - the telltale signs of sniffling and full body shakes were missing - but he was breaking before Hunk’s eyes, crumbling into a version of himself Hunk had never seen before.

In his bedroom, Hunk pulled out his communicator and dialed Pidge and Lance.

“Dude, it’s like… almost eleven, why are you calling?” Pidge said from her bed, the holo-feed turned sideways.

“Yeah, I was just about to go to sleep,” Lance said, a towel wrapped around his head.

“Guys, I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important,” Hunk said, “Keith’s staying here tonight and I think you two should come in the morning to see him.”

“Wait, What? I thought he was staying with Shiro for a few days.” Pidge said, rubbing her eyes with a frown.

“He and Shiro had a fight.” Lance’s and Pidge’s eyes widened simultaneously, mouths gaping at even the possibility that Keith and Shiro could ever be anything less than on good terms. “He wouldn’t say what it was about or anything but he’s really upset about it. I’m sure he’s not gonna want to stick around long and I think it’d be really great for him to see you guys before he goes, so maybe just come over early in the morning?”

“We can be there for breakfast,” Pidge said, “Right Lance?”

“First thing in the morning,” Lance said gloomily, “Sounds great.”

“You can mourn your beauty sleep when Keith goes home,” Pidge said.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Hunk said, and then added before they hung up, “And bring pancake toppings!”

With the call ended, Hunk peeked back into the hall. The light in the living room was switched off, and on the tips of his toes his sneaked back in. Keith was curled on his side, head rested on the arm of the couch, eyes closed. On the tips of his toes, Hunk took a spare blanket from the closet and draped it over him, surprising himself when Keith didn’t so much as stir.

A few minutes later, the timer Hunk set buzzed in his pocket. Careful not to make noise, Hunk slipped out the door and down the stairs.

* * *

In the morning, the Black Lion hummed to life while Shiro laid in bed. She prodded at his mind, sending him thoughts of warmth. It could only mean that Keith was there.

Sliding out from underneath the blankets, Shiro left the living quarters at a sluggish pace, only barely awake when he and Keith nearly collided in the hall. Not that he had slept well, with their argument replaying over and over in his mind as if to punish him.

“Keith,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s too early.”

“Here.” He felt Keith’s hand take his, and fingers press something into the center of his palm.

Blinking the last of his sleep away, he stared down at the small chip in bewilderment. “What’s this?”

“I finished the translation,” Keith said, crossing his arms. “Download it to Black’s database and get that back to me. I still need it.”

It took a moment for Shiro to process what Keith was saying. “Keith,” he said, brow furrowed, “This must’ve taken you all night.”

“I’ve got maybe an hour and a half before the others wake up. I’m going to sleep.” He turned to leave, and out of instinct Shiro reached out and caught him by the wrist, finally taking him fully into view. He still wore Shiro’s t-shirt, and he’d pulled his jeans on for the trip between Lions, but his feet were bare, his hair was tangled, and the shadows under his eyes were noticeably dark.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Shiro said, making every effort to sound genuine through his weariness.

Keith pressed his mouth into a line. “I know a panic attack when I see one. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Shiro said, taking another small step closer.

“I forgive you, then.” Keith tried to pull his arm free.

“Keith,” Shiro breathed, “Stay.”

Keith blinked, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth and looking away. “How long have I waited for you to say that to me?” he said with a self-deprecating laugh, voice rough with emotion. “No.”

He should have expected that response, but it still hurt. “Keith-”

“We still haven’t talked. Actually talked. And the longer we put it off the worse things are going to get. I won’t get into bed with you again until we get it over with.” He wrenched his arm back. “I’m going to sleep in the Red Lion. You look like you could use some sleep, too.”

Shiro’s shoulders drooped. It was no use fighting Keith when he’d made up his mind. “Okay.”

Turning away, Keith paused. “Be careful when you read that, Shiro. There’s a lot in there I wish I didn’t know.”

And with that, once again, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next: the boys finally get their shit together.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note 10/5: to be updated shortly. 
> 
> thank you all so much for reading! if you feel so inclined, please leave a comment because i absolutely LOVE to know what you guys think and your comments really do keep me motivated! and you are always welcome to come chat with me on any of my social media! 
> 
> thanks again!! 
> 
> Find me on Twitter [@ineedashiro](https://twitter.com/ineedashiro) and Tumblr [@holdingoutforashiro](https://holdingoutforashiro.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Listen to the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3wzRqpCVcMNFa2fLaOqyDA?si=k6gjIJpAQFaEs8EEKzh-Iw).


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